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Damon Mootoo, a Guyanese immigrant who first came to the United States a few weeks ago, was lost in Queens for five days after he left his brother’s house in South Jamaica for a walk.
On his way back, he couldn’t find his brother’s house and didn’t recognize anything around him.
Rather than ask for directions, he wandered around, hoping that he would figure his situation out. He didn’t have any identification on him and, throughout his days on the street, he felt too ashamed to ask anyone for help or food.
“I thought the best person to get help from was a police officer,” he said. “But I was scared because I didn’t have ID with me and no money. I thought they would hold me.”
When he had exhausted himself, he found a piece of plywood in a yard, which he used to shield himself from the snow that had begun to fall.
“I was saying to myself, ‘Don’t give up. I’ll get up in the morning and keep walking,’” he said.
As the days passed, his feet began to swell from the cold.
On his last day, he tried to turn on a water hose in front of the home of Michael Bharath’s, who came home and welcomed him into his house.
Eventually, Bharath took him home, a drive that took only five minutes.
“I felt so thankful to him and to the Lord,” Mootoo said.
My hell lost in Queens [New York Daily News]
—Elizabeth
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