Fleeing an Angry River

The knocks on the door early Wednesday morning came hard and loud.

Frank Jesuiter was expecting them. On Tuesday night, he had watched with disbelief as a flood he was sure would not touch his apartment building in Dresden’s historic district rose more than 3 meters (about 10 feet). By Wednesday morning, city officials had decided it was time to move everyone out of the 12-story building.

“We had five minutes to get together all of our things and leave,” Jesuiter said.

For the social worker, the panic was especially acute. In addition to his own things, Jesuiter and five of his colleagues were responsible for the medication and care of 64 psychologically impaired and elderly patients.

He hurriedly gathered medication together, as police spread the word. The patients began to panic. As he packed, he wondered why they hadn’t had more time to get everything together. The Elbe had been rising all night, after all, he thought to himself.

“They could have given us at least 15 or 20 minutes to take care of it all,” he said. “You couldn’t forget things like your money or your wallet.”

Where to next?

Outside, a motor boat and six large police row boats had pulled up to evacuate the building's 216 residents. Jesuiter watched with concern as eight of his elderly patients were handed through the windows onto the boats.

They paddled and motored their way through an abandoned city. As they passed the abandoned buildings of the old quarter, Jesuiter wondered where they were headed to next.

Sport centers and schools across Dresden have been turned into temporary shelters for evacuees in the past week. Overnight, tent cities have sprung up where families while away the hours until they can return home and assess the damage.

“We thought we were going to some tent camp,” he said. “With sick people, with alcoholics, that would have been extremely strenuous.”

Once on dry land, Jesuiter met with the other caretakers and rescue officials. They were able to secure housing in a sprawling, comfortable training center on the outskirts of the city center.

Fleeing the angry Elbe

The stay has been as relaxed as possible, says Jesuiter. But like thousands across Dresden, he has begun wondering what will still be there when he returns home. The walls will be moist beyond repair, he estimates. His furniture, his bible collection, his lovely Bulgarian rug are most likely all gone.

“I’ll just throw them away,” he said.

Dresden has lost its charm for Jesuiter, a resident since he moved from Rostock in 1987. He plans to move some place further north, someplace higher. The Elbe, he says, is trying to find its old path, carved before people came and erected houses and office parks and cathedrals.

“The Elbe has so much power now,” he said, speaking as if the river was a living, breathing life form. “It wants to find its way back to these places.”

He said he is concerned his patients will think so as well. The flood, the evacuations have all been traumatic for them. He hopes to find them temporary shelter in hospitals and only return them to the apartment building when officials can assure there’s no more moistness or water damage.

“They can’t feel that they’re in a prison,” he said. “that the Elbe will one day climb again and trap them.”