Bayou Corne: the Louisiana town that's being swallowed by a sinkhole

The sinkhole in September 2012. Image: US National Nuclear Security Administration.

For those of us who can watch them from behind the protective barrier of a computer screen, sinkholes seem pretty cool. Yes, they cause destruction, but in a world where large objects normally stay where we put them, there's a certain fairytale quality to the way they can just suck away enormous chunks of the earth. They can swallow parked cars:

They can swallow trees with cartoon-like efficiency:

But for the residents and ex-residents of a tiny town in Louisiana, sinkholes are pretty much the worst things ever.

Let's start at the beginning. On 3 August 2012, the residents of Bayou Rouge, Louisiana, noticed a funny, petrol-like smell in the air. Later that day, someone stumbled on a giant hole filled with sludgy water on the western edge of the town, not far from the fork of the Bayou Corne waterway. 

The hole, it was soon established, was caused by the collapse of an underground salt cavern, mined by a company called Texas Brine. On that first day, the hole covered around an acre of land. Here's helicopter footage over Bayou Corne taken another ten days after the hole opened (they reach it around 35 seconds in): 

As sinkholes go, it's not particularly glamorous. If we're completely honest, it looks like a giant pond. But as time went on, it became clear that this sinkhole's work was far from done.

When the walls of the mine collapsed, it turned out, they let natural gas and oil filter up to the surface, to escape into the town's air. As a result, Louisiana Governor Bobby Jindal issued an evacuation order on the day of the hole's discovery. Many left the town; some stayed in defiance of the order. Texas Brine was tasked with investigating the collapse.

Yet things kept getting worse. Texas Brine have burned off millions of cubic feet of escaping gas and oil in an attempt to keep it out of the atmosphere. There are fears that the sinkhole might explode if the escaping gas ignites. Oh, and it's grown to cover around 31 acres. This is the latest satellite image of the town from Google Earth:

Spot the sinkhole! Clue: it's the giant black pit visible from space. Image: Google Earth.


The sinkhole has been swallowing up Texas Brine's revenues, too. From the beginning of the evacuation, the company sent each resident a weekly cheque for $875. In August 2014, a federal judge approved a $48.1m settlement, which Texas Brine will spend on buying up the town's properties and paying residents' damages. It's also paid out to some families as restitution for the "mental anguish" they've experienced since 2012. 

But, three years from the sinkhole's first appearance, the town's residents and ex-residents are still stuck in limbo. As of January, according to the Louisiana Advocate, 12 families of the original 150 remain, though they, too, will leave once they've reached a deal with Texas Brine. And the empty houses? The company has shut off utilities and is stripping out appliances, leaving them as empty shells. It remains to be seen whether they'll be demolished, or whether Bayou Corne will become a ghost town.

Scientists say the sinkhole's growth has slowed (though it's been belching out mini-earthquakes since mid-December), so it seems unlikely it will finish off the town completely. This probably isn't much consolation for Bayou Corne's once close-knit community, though: as ex-resident Nick Romero told the Advocate, the worst thing isn't the sinkhole's destruction – it's "losing all your friends" as they're forced to scatter around the state.  

 
 
 
 

The smartphone app placing virtual statues of women on the map

A virtual Edith Wharton in Central Park, New York City. Image: The Whole Story Project.

If you’re a woman, then in order for you to be immortalised in stone, bronze or whatever once you’ve shuffled off this mortal coil, you should either have royal blood or be willing to be sculpted naked. That is the rule of thumb.

A statue that actually celebrates a woman’s achievements is a rare sight. Writing in the New Statesman last year, equality campaigner Caroline Criado-Perez found that out of 925 statues in Britain, as listed by the Public Monuments and Sculpture Association, only 158 are of solo women. Of these, 46 are of royalty, including 29 of Queen Victoria. Fourteen depict the Virgin Mary.

There are signs of change, albeit slow. The suffragist Millicent Fawcett is set to be honoured with a statue in Parliament Square, where currently all 11 of the statues are of men. (They include Nelson Mandela and a nine-foot Gandhi.) The monument is to be unveiled next year to celebrate the centenary of British women receiving the right to vote.

Elsewhere, the late comedian Victoria Wood is being honoured with a statue that’ll be erected in Bury, Greater Manchester. In the Moss Side area of the city, a statue of Emmeline Pankhurst will be unveiled in 2019. Unlike the Fawcett one, neither of these is expected to receive public money, relying on crowdfunding and other sources instead.

So how many more statues of women, regardless of how they’re funded, would we need to build in order to reduce the gender gap? Well, according to Jonathan Jones, art critic at the Guardian, the magic number is: zero.

Jones’s argument, back in March, was that building statues doesn’t advance feminism, but simply traps us in the past. He wrote:

Statues don’t hold public memory. They politely bury it. These well-meaning images melt into the background scenery of our lives.

Whether this is empirically true is questionable, but it’s true that we tend not to erect them as often as we used to anyway. This is partly because there is less space available for such monuments – a noticeable disadvantage cities of the present have compared to those of the past. In order to reduce the imbalance, statues of men would probably have to be removed; many would no doubt be okay with that, but it would mean erasing history.

One partial answer to the problem is augmented reality. It can’t close the gender gap, but it could shine a spotlight on it.

To that end, an advertising agency in New York launched an app at the beginning of May. The Whole Story allows users to place virtual statues of women on a map; other uses can then view and find out more about the individuals depicted at their real-world locations, using their smartphone cameras.


Currently, users have to upload their own virtual statues using 3D-modelling software. But going forward, the project aims for an open collaboration between designers, developers and organisations, which it hopes will lead to more people getting involved.

Contributions submitted so far include a few dozen in New York, several in Washington and one of Jane Austen in Hyde Park. There are others in Italy and the Czech Republic.

Okay, it’s an app created by a marketing firm, but there are legitimate arguments for it. First, the agency’s chief creative office has herself said that it’s important to address the gender imbalance in a visual way in order to inspire current and future generations: you can’t be what you can’t see, as the saying going.

Second, if the physical presence of statues really is diminishing and they don’t hold public memory, as Jones argues, then smartphones could bridge the gap. We live our lives through our devices, capturing, snapping and storing moments, only to forget about them but then return to and share them at a later date. These memories may melt away, but they’ll always be there, backed up to the cloud even. If smartphones can be used to capture and share the message that a gender imbalance exists then that’s arguably a positive thing.  

Third, with the success of Pokemon Go, augmented reality has shown that it can encourage us to explore public spaces and heighten our appreciation for architectural landmarks. It can also prove useful as a tool for learning about historical monuments.

Of course no app will replace statues altogether. But at the very least it could highlight the fact that women’s achievements are more than just sitting on a throne or giving birth to the son of God.

Rich McEachran tweets as @richmceachran.

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