The 32-mile long island of GALVESTON, TEXAS offers sandy beaches, art galleries, charming 19th-century architecture, and according to its website, even the greatest of natural disasters cannot “erase the tranquility of a Galveston sunset.”
This month, that claim may have been tested to its breaking point for the university town.
In the early hours of September 13, Hurricane Ike made landfall on the Gulf Coast at Galveston, socking the island with 110 mph winds and flooding its homes. This was the worst hurricane to have hit the area since the devastation of an infamous Category 4 storm in 1900. Even the sea wall built in response to that hurricane was no match for the 15-foot storm surge Ike dealt this year.
After pounding the island, the Category 2 storm hit Houston—the fourth-largest city in the United States—blowing out windows, tearing pieces off skyscrapers, and toppling trees and power lines.
More than 2 million Texans adhered to a mandatory order and evacuated their homes along the Gulf Coast before the storm hit. But roughly 100,000 residents stayed behind—including about 20,000 in Galveston—despite the rare warning issued from the National Hurricane Centre that “Persons not heeding evacuation orders in single-family, one- or two-story homes may face certain death.”
The Texas Public Utilities Commission estimated that 2.4 million customers were left without power in Ike’s wake, while Galveston now struggles with an estimated $18-billion in damage. The storm claimed more than 50 lives in the United States
More than any other campus, the nearly 1,800 students of Texas A&M University at Galveston face disruption as a result of the storm. Evacuated from the island three days before Ike made landfall, they have learned that their campus will be closed for the rest of term. Most of the uprooted students will complete the semester at the main Texas A&M campus at College Station. The move creates a logistical puzzle that has College Station administrators scrambling to organize extra classes and housing at a campus already filled to capacity.
Elsewhere in Texas, thousands of students are dealing with the repurcussions of the fifth hurricane of the 2008 season.
At Rice University in Houston, students took shelter in their residence buildings. With everyone in such close quarters, many busied themselves with games, but as the storm worsened, safety concerns confined students to narrow and crowded hallways.
Both Rice and the University of Houston kept power—notable exceptions in a city left 99 per cent powerless—although a lack of water pressure rendered hot showers impossible.
Elaina Bolinger, an exchange student at Rice, told The Varsity that the campus survived the hurricane in better shape than the rest of the city. “Rice seemed to be in an impervious bubble during Ike,” she said, but explained that Houstonians off-campus dealt with power outages, long lines at grocery stores, and a lack of essentials.
Bolinger also recalled that while spirits ran high during the storm, the lack of running water became trying. “Two days without showering is not enjoyable, for anyone,” she noted wryly. “Especially in a crowded elevator.”
With the exception of Galveston, schools across the region have gone back to class, though attendance was optional for the first week as people dealt with the havoc wreaked by Hurricane Ike.
Rice and UH have played a central role in Houston’s recovery. Rice University’s track was transformed into a temporary helicopter landing pad, while other buildings operated as triage areas for disaster medical teams. UH served as a point of distribution for items donated by the Federal Emergency Management Agency to those in need. Students at both schools have also volunteered much of their time to recovery efforts, clearing debris, and distributing supplies.
Back at Galveston, it’s Sunday, September 28, the one day when for a 12-hour window between 6 a.m. and 6 p.m. students are allowed to return to the island to pick up personal belongings left during the evacuation. They are advised that traffic lights may not be functioning, to watch out for debris, dismantled bridges, to bring a spare tire and jack, and to not drink the tap water.
Given the consequences of Hurricane Ike no-one may want to tell the inhabitants of Galveston “I told you so.” It is perhaps indicative of the town’s relationship with the sea that so many houses on its flooded streets are built on stilts. It’s difficult to read the minds of the 20,000 who attempted to wear-out the storm. Why would anyone place a satellite campus so obviously open to the elements?
Whereas the students at College Station are known as Aggies (the A in A&M stands for “Agricultural”), Galveston students are “Sea Aggies.” Marine biology, marine fisheries, marine engineering technology, marine sciences, marine transportation, maritime administration, maritime studies, maritime system engineering, oceans and coastal resources, and something called university studies (marine environmental law and policy)—it isn’t difficult to see where the school’s academic emphasis lies. On the TAMU website devoted to helping Sea Aggies figure out their new class schedules at Campus Station, a very serious question is posed: “What will happen to sailing class?”
On the website for frequently asked questions about the relocation, the final question remains: “Some seniors feel like the relocation to College Station is not fair?” The school administrators’ response is frank:
“Conducting classes in Galveston in the next 2-3 months is not possible. The physical damage to campus facilities, including off campus housing is extensive. The damage to the city of Galveston and its infrastructure is unlivable. The road leading to the Pelican Island drawbridge was washed out, there is no water, sewer, or electricity nor are there any guarantees when these will be services will be restored. […] The bottom line is all TAMUG students, faculty and staff are facing difficult and often traumatic situations. If however, we pull together we can make this work.”
