The following was written by a Jamaican who worked with the United Nations and who, due to his job, saw first-hand the disasters of war and nature worldwide. He visited Jamaica shortly after Hurricane Melissa’s passage and has allowed us to publish on condition of anonymity.

Last night I returned from Westmoreland via Ferris, Withorn, and Montego Bay. The journey took three hours due to the bad condition of the roads, bundles and bundles of cable wires lying on the roadway, light posts leaning dangerously over the roadway, approximately 10 inches of water running down from a hill and across the road through some houses.

Along the journey through Belmont, looking at the devastation I started to wonder why Jamaicans weren’t told that a nuclear bomb was dropped in our country. The trees were without leaves, everywhere was brown, approximately eight out of 11 houses and business places were without roofs. And there were no exceptions in places like Farm, Culloden, Whitehouse, Long Hill, and Petersville, my home town.

I have seen the killing field overseas in my field of work — old ladies’ feet and baby hands protruding from shallow graves. But, sorry, the human suffering I observed [after Hurricane Melissa] touched my heart.

I drove past the ruins of my primary school and I could see people huddling, waiting for any little food that comes by. I started to tear up and mumble to myself, one act of the Almighty can humble the human being. I drove over to the yard where I grew up, and to the five-bedroom house I built for my grandmother. The roof was gone, except for a bathroom with concrete roof. This is where my cousin sheltered from the hurricane.

For the first time in six hours I smiled when he told me he was cooking when the roof blew off, taking with it his pot of food. I started to drive around distributing food and water. Tears of joy came for some who shouted, “Miss Vergi grandson brought food for us.”

I then drove to Pam Reid’s house, she attended Sunday school with us. When I got to her house I noticed the roof was gone and coconut leaves were covering an area close to the step. I shouted her name, and lo and behold she came out from under the leaves. This brought more tears to my eyes.

The human suffering is really too much. The thanks and hugs I received are owed to my sisters, they graciously contributed to the purchasing of the food and water I took to Westmoreland.

Nuff respect and love, girls.