In Sandy’s Shadow: How the Redfern Houses’ True Ordeal Began After the Storm
In Sandy’s Shadow: How the Redfern Houses’ True Ordeal Began After the Storm
4 minute read
Ervin Pridgen, 52, in his kitchen on the first floor of the Redfern Houses. Pridgen, an ironworker, lives in the apartment with seven other family members. Their only form of transportation, a Buick LaSabre, flooded during the storm, making it hard to visit his wife, who just had surgery.Finlay MacKay for TIME
For Angela Williams, the routine was the same each day. She would leave her apartment, shuffle through a dark hallway and down a concrete stairwell, and stand in line for freeze-dried military rations handed out by Red Cross workers. The wait could last an hour. Williams, 45, would drop food off at her mother’s place a few buildings over, then push through her rheumatoid arthritis to hike the six flights back up to her apartment. There she would sit in darkness, trying not to go insane.
“It’s like we’re living in an abandoned building,” says Williams. “No hot water, no heat, no nothing.”
Even in ordinary times, life in the Redfern Houses wasn’t easy. The complex stands in the northeastern section of Far Rockaway, Queens, not far from the runways of JFK Airport. Inside nine faded-brick towers are 1,780 people in 604 apartments. Residents pay an average rent of $472 a month to the New York City Housing Authority. The architecture screams “projects”; so do the rusted trim and scuffed linoleum lobby floors. A security system includes 141 high-tech cameras designed to be triggered by the sound of gunshots, installed by the city after a three-day wave of shootings in 2008 left two people dead and five injured. And yet, many residents have made Redfern their home, working hard to keep their apartments immaculate inside regardless of the projects’ dingy exterior.
Then came Sandy. A little after dusk on Oct. 29, the storm piled water from Motts Basin over Beach Channel Drive and submerged the low-slung wrought iron fence surrounding the towers. Around 8 p.m., the lights went off. Elevators throughout the six and seven-story buildings were halted; heat went out, and appliances shut down. “You looked out the window and it was so dark, you didn’t know it was water until you seen it moving,” says David Stephens, who lives on the fourth floor. As quickly as it came, the water receded, leaving the wet grounds covered in darkness.
For many in Sandy’s path, the storm itself was terrifying. On Staten Island, houses collapsed, crushing people underneath; in Breezy Point, families fled blocks of homes in flames. But in Redfern, the real struggle began the next day, when it became clear that power wouldn’t return for weeks. For people who felt forgotten to begin with, warehoused in a housing project at the farthest corner of the city, it became easy to think that they are last in line for repairs. Engineers from the Army and Air Force have been pumping sand and saltwater out of the buildings’ basements, only to come back the next morning to waterlogged utility rooms they must pump out again.
The lack of power forced Sheree Pinder’s four children to sleep huddled in the living room under piles of blankets with black mold on the ceiling because the two bedrooms were so cold they could see their breath freeze. Rebecca Glynn, a hospital secretary, returned to work, but every night a bus ferried her home to the blackout zone, which she describes as a daily trip “back into hell.”
Still, most in Redfern count their blessings; the buildings suffered no structural damage. Late Sunday night, 14 days after the storm, electrical companies had finally hooked up every building to a generator, which means lights in the hallways, but still no heat in people’s apartments. “You have your moments. Maybe three days ago I came out of the building and just started crying,” Williams says. “I never disrespected the homeless, but I look at them in a totally different light. We’re in the same predicament.”
The following images were taken Nov. 9 - 11, 2012.
David Stephens stands beside the hospital bed in his daughter Tatiana's room. The owner of a hair salon–named Three Angels Hair Salon after his daughters–until the economy forced him to shutter the business, David cares for his daughter in his sixth floor apartment in the Redfern Houses. Tatiana, now 17, suffered a brain infection at 9 that left her paralyzed. The morning after Sandy, David carried her down six flights of stairs after the power went out. Tatiana is staying with Stephens' mother-in-law. "This is the time to show who’s down for what," Stephens says of the Redfern community. "Everybody can walk past on a nice day and say, ‘I’m your neighbor.’ But when there’s tough time, where are you at? Now we’re all standing on line. Now we’re all looking for help."Finlay MacKay for TIMEElijah Jones, 23, sits in his room on the fourth floor of the Redfern Houses. Since the storm, water has condensed on the walls and ceiling because his room is so cold, and mold is starting to grow on his walls. Every day he tries to clean the moisture from his room, but the water keeps coming back. "That’s the only light we got," he says pointing to a spotlight on a generator in the courtyard. "We just got that like three days ago."Finlay MacKay for TIMEAlfredo Otero, 51, holds one of his birds in his sixth floor apartment in the Redfern Houses. Otero, the owner of three dogs, one large bird, four small birds, half a dozen fish and one hamster, began taking in stray animals and saving pets throughout Redfern. On the night of the storm when a transformer blew out, his daughter looked at him and cried, "Daddy, a bomb exploded.” Finlay MacKay for TIME(L-R) Zaahir Graham, 5; Khalil Holder, 4; Brianna Morris, 9; and Khasir Wright, 2 play in the living room of their grandmother, Barbara Wilson's apartment on the first floor of the Redfern Houses. When the storm hit and water came up to the window, the family ran to stay with friends on the third floor. Two weeks after the storm, the children had yet to return to school. "Thank God we’re here together," Wilson says. "After it goes, we can always replace anything. We might be a little crazier, but we’re still here. That’s the most important thing." Finlay MacKay for TIMESheree Pinder sits on the water-soaked bed of one of her bedrooms on the first floor of the Redfern Houses. Without heat, the bedrooms are frigid, and water condensation has collected into a puddle covering her floor. "We’re living like a living hell right now," she says. "And they’re saying we might not have no lights for a whole month. I don’t know what we’re going to do for that long."Finlay MacKay for TIMEAngela Williams, 45, in the living room of her sixth floor Redfern apartment. In order to stay warm, Williams turns on the oven and leaves the door open and boils a large pot of water on the stove. But at night, wary of the oven fumes, she wears layer after layer of clothes and burrows under three blankets in her living room, the warmest room in the apartment. "Irene didn’t do nothing to us; Sandy tore us up," she says. "We’re living day to day." Finlay MacKay for TIMEErvin Pridgen, 52, in his kitchen on the first floor of the Redfern Houses. Pridgen, an ironworker, lives in the apartment with seven other family members. Their only form of transportation, a Buick LaSabre, flooded during the storm, making it hard to visit his wife, who just had surgery. Finlay MacKay for TIMEAlfredo Otero pets his dog in his sixth floor apartment in the Redfern Houses. Already the owner of two dogs, Otero took in numerous strays who were abandoned in the neighborhood. He also took in people's fish, which he keeps in his tank. A while back he installed a filter that runs on a battery, which he says has saved many fish since the power went out. Finlay MacKay for TIMEKingsley Ihim, 12; Markeya Ihim, 15 mos.; Jazzamia Ihim, 7; Martin Ihim, 4; and Shaun Ihim, 5 watch as Kebion, 6 practices his karate moves in the family’s 4th floor kitchen. "I can’t swim," says their mother, Janet, describing her plan to save her children if the flooding worsened the night of the storm. "But I have bins, so I got the bins out and I was going to out them in there and let them float to safety. Put the top on and poke a little hole for air and put their Medicaid cards in their pockets so they’d know who they are."Finlay MacKay for TIMETimmy Pinder, 28, watches over his brother Lamar, 14, in the family's living room on the first floor of the Redfern Houses. At night, seven people huddle in the living room for warmth. "The kids are going crazy because they’re in the dark," Pinder says. Finlay MacKay for TIME
