The remains of Velma Greenidge's house in Grenada

One woman - Velma Greenidge - who was in the UK at the time decided she had to make the journey home to Grenada to see the damage to her house, for herself.

BBC Breakfast's Julia Botfield went with her - there wasn't much left to see. Jules takes up the story:

I gawped in utter disbelief as we drove past shattered houses. To an untrained eye like mine it looked as though the hurricane had only just ended.

There was carnage everywhere and Grenada looked like a war zone. "What do you think?" asked Bentley our driver.

"Unbelievable" said Paul my cameraman, and it was... it was unbelievable, shocking, and at times surreal.

'Apocalyptic'

We tried to find words to capture what we saw - devastating, apocalyptic, I'm honestly not sure that any one word could ever do it justice. And just when I thought we'd seen the worst another grotesque scene loomed into vision.

Shipping containers blown on top of cars, churches torn open, and trees, Grenada's lush vibrant forests stripped of leaves, stripped of bark, just so many bare, shattered, branches pointing accusingly at the sky.

But the worst damage is to the island's housing stock, ninety per cent of homes were damaged, many thousands of people have nowhere to live. We visited the Greenidge family who lost everything.

As the hurricane raged, the children and their father clambered out of their house, choosing to take their chances in the open air rather than die as their home collapsed around them.

Benedick Greenidge snatched his five year old to his chest, and pulled his nine year old onto his back before stepping out into the howling storm. They took shelter under a neighbours porch, it was a terrible night, but they survived.

Supplies

And now two weeks on they wait for food supplies and fresh water, and frankly it is shocking that they haven't received any yet. Aid is arriving by boat and plane, but it's not being distributed properly.

Government ministers are already talking about bringing tourists back to the island, finding new ways to market their "product", and replacing the decimated nutmeg industry. But until everyone has safe drinking water and at least a tarpaulin over the heads, it's hard to believe they have their priorities right.

On a community level the mutual support and care is humbling. Certainly we heard stories of looting in the immediate aftermath of the hurricane, but by the time we arrived on the island people were pulling together. Villagers are working assiduously on one property at a time, re-roofing their neighbours house before attempting to tackle their own.

Shattered

It's hard to imagine how the schools and churches will fare, many look way beyond the point of repair. In the capital St George's the Catholic cathedral is a brutalised shell, a crucified Jesus gazes down upon the shattered remains of the roof, the pews and the organ.

Wherever you go around the island people find little else to talk about - the sense of shock is still pervasive. Many Grenadians believed they were safe, that their island was outside the hurricane belt, that it wouldn't happen to them. Ivan was a brutal reminder of the unpredictability of nature.