New Orleans vows to let the good times roll again

NEW ORLEANS - In the days after Hurricane Katrina, there was water up to the ceiling on the ground floor of the Zulu Social Aid and Pleasure clubhouse on Broad Street in New Orleans. Most of the members fled far from the city, while 10 died in the storm.

And yet yesterday, six months after broken levees deluged 80 per cent of this city, the wood-framed clubhouse is buzzing. The renovated bar area downstairs is full of patrons again, while one floor above, club office-holders are making final preparations for the most important date in the Zulu calendar: Fat Tuesday.

The Zulus are ready to roll with their parade, perhaps the most popular of the Mardi Gras holiday events and one of only two to happen on Fat Tuesday itself. Dancers in Zulu blackface and grass skirts will sway on the floats and shower spectators with much-prized decorated coconuts.

If all of New Orleans agonised about holding Mardi Gras in the wake of such loss, the dilemma faced by the Zulus was especially acute. On the one hand, celebrating seemed barely right at a time when so many African Americans in the city had lost loved ones and homes. On the other, the blacks, whose neighbourhoods were disproportionately hit by Katrina, needed lifting.

In October, a former Zulu king took legal steps to ensure the club boycotted Mardi Gras this year. His effort failed, however. At a meeting in December, members, many of whom had driven in for the day from neighbouring states, voted unanimously to press ahead. Never mind that the club still had not been able to reconnect with half of its 600 members in the aftermath of Katrina.

For Larry Hammond, 55, a postal worker who last summer was elected Zulu King for 2006, the road has been even longer.

"Back then, I felt there was no way I could ride," he said. He changed his mind two weekends ago when the Zulus held a mock jazz funeral for their deceased members.

"I felt then a burden was lifted," he said, sitting last week in his crammed clubhouse office. "I said to myself that I was proud to be a Zulu and I thanked God. I said, 'I'm ready to ride now'."

Founded in 1909 and incorporated in 1916, Zulu has long been integral to the rich, ethnic fabric of this city, which, until Katrina, was 70 per cent black.

The idea remains to poke fun at the other clubs, or "krewes", that stage parades for Mardi Gras and especially at the mostly white Rex krewe and its king. Rex shares the privilege with Zulu of holding its parade on Fat Tuesday.

"I don't want people to see us as a group of black men singing, dancing and having a good time, and therefore somehow showing disrespect for all those who died in the hurricane," says Hammond, who has ridden in the Zulu parades for 19 years.

"But at the end of the day this is about preserving our heritage."

"It's important that the Zulus hit the streets as usual," agrees Harold Dudley, 77, who has been the krewe's Grand Marshal for 33 years. Beyond its annual Mardi Gras bash, the club is a benevolent society that raises funds all year to help the black community, especially its underprivileged children.

Rescued during Katrina from his submerged home by a school bus and dumped for two days and nights on a highway flyover, Dudley was finally evacuated to New Jersey. He came home in December.

"I thought I had lost everything. But I came back and they told me that Zulu was going ahead with Mardi Gras. I knew then that I hadn't."

Like everyone, Zulu has had to scale back. Its usual Zulu Ball, with 20,000 people in black tie and gowns, has been cancelled. There will be fewer floats, and only 500 coconuts have been shaved and decorated, fewer than usual. Hammond will eschew the usual kingly costume - grass skirt, banana stem sceptre and crown - and wear a tuxedo.

But at least the Zulus won't be absent.

"It wouldn't be Mardi Gras without Zulu," said Arthur Hardy, a noted Mardi Gras historian here. "Nobody has more fun than Zulu."

- INDEPENDENT