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Once a vibrant hillside community near Bull Bay, St Andrew, the district of Bito has faded into near silence. The area, which is said to have had a few hundred residents in its heyday, now shelters only 11 souls.

The dying community is marked by abandoned homes with peeling paint, cracked walls, and dirt roads choked by overgrown vegetation. The scent of dry earth, the distant crow of a rooster and cool winds through the hills evoke a landscape where nature holds sway.

Over the years, families have trickled out of Bito, some in search of better opportunities, others forced to relocate because of gypsum mining and treacherous road conditions which are made worse when it rains.

Alan Roberts, 72, grew up in Bito and raised his children there, lamented the slow death of the community.

"Only 11 a wi live yah now," he said, adding that their man source of transportation out is "one man weh have a AD Wagon".

"When him cya bring wi, we affi call one taxi and a bout $2,000."

Bito's history is etched into every weathered building and crumbling wall. The community, which borders Bloxbourgh across the Cane River, once bustled with the laughter of children at Bito All-Age School, a place that held the promise of a bright future for many, including Roberts' own family.

"Mi memba di time when Bito All-Age School did full a pickney. But dem shut it dung inna 2013, even di church lock dung," Roberts said.

The abandoned school, which once provided refuge during hurricanes, now stands as a stark reminder of the relentless march of time and the erosion of a community's foundation.

Survival in Bito is a daily challenge against the odds. The residents eke out their living through subsistence farming. For Roberts, who has known no other home than the steep hills and dusty paths of Bito, even fetching water is a testament to endurance.

"Mi raise goats an pick coffee dis a how mi nuh get bored and stay busy. Mi go ketch water from a spring bout a mile from mi yard," he said.

On the day THE STAR visited, Roberts was preparing a bubbling pot of fish-head soup, his favourite meal.

Modern conveniences remain a distant luxury in Bito. With cell service as scarce as water on a hot day, even a simple phone call requires effort. Roberts explained the extra mile he must walk to stay connected.

"When mi waa call mi family or check fi any missed calls, mi haffi walk out to open land, just fi get a clear signal. Mi do it regular, just fi see if anybody try reach mi."

Despite the hardships and the near-complete exodus of neighbours, a sense of community stubbornly clings to life.

Roberts said, "We always link up at di likkle shop fi have a drink, play dominoes, an chat. Di radio keep we company."

Roberts recalled the violent tempests with a mix of trepidation and pride.

"Hurricane Beryl mash up nuff house and block di road, but mi did lucky fi survive," he said.

For medical emergencies and other necessities, residents must venture far beyond their secluded world as the nearest health facility is in Harbour View.

As the sun sets behind the mountains, casting long shadows over the empty houses, Roberts shrugs off the quiet with a peace few understand.

"Mi nuh feel lonely," he said. "Mi just deh yah a live - same way mi born an' grow."