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In Little Tivoli, Manchester, darkness isn't just the absence of light, it's a way of life.

For more than 30 years, families here have raised children, farmed livestock, and cooked meals by 'borrowed' current and candlelight, waiting for promises of development that never quite arrive. Though sections of Prospect district have recently been connected to the national grid through the Government's Community Electrification Project, the residents of Little Tivoli remain unconnected. Many say they signed up to be part of the programme more than a year ago but have yet to see a Jamaica Public Service (JPS) team or government contractor reach their stretch of the hillside.

"Dem did say dem ago run it and we pay it back inna bill," said Venton Witter, a lifelong resident. "But we nuh see nothing gwan. From mi house go up inna the rest of the community, nuh have nuh light."

Instead, residents rely on what they call "bridge light", an illegal, makeshift connection to the power grid. It's unstable and unreliable, offering just enough electricity to charge a phone or turn on a bulb, when it works at all.

"Sometimes the light just go weh outta the blue," one woman said. "We affi watch wi phone battery. Mi try keep mine charge just in case mi likkle grandpickney dem want it fi do dem homework when it get dark."

Burmel Warren, 55, said she's had to replace small appliances repeatedly due to the unstable power.

"Mi buy four kettle, and all four bun up. Two microwave bun up, blender bun up. The current weak cause we nuh have strong current," she said.

COULDN'T PAY BILLS

Warren once had legal power but couldn't keep up with the payments.

"Dem come tek weh everything, even the meter. But now mi can do a little better than first time, and mi woulda really want fi connect it back," she said.

Still, residents insist that electricity, while long overdue, is not their most urgent need.

"If mi haffi choose, a water mi a choose," said Witter. "Mi can use that fi go garden and grow mi food."

The area is dry, and with the closure of the Alpart bauxite plant, residents say their former water source dried up. A nearby well is reportedly clogged with debris, and efforts to have it cleared have stalled. The result: families spend upwards of $9,000 to fill a black drum with trucked water from outside communities.

"Right now, mi nuh even have none," Warren said.

With water so scarce, farming has become difficult. Some residents have shifted to livestock, which requires less irrigation, but that too depends on water access. And the strain doesn't stop there. The road that once connected Little Tivoli to Mandeville, known as Motherdick Road, has become overgrown and unusable. Taxis will only travel to a point in the community, leaving schoolchildren to walk the rest of the way. On rainy days, they're spared only if the drivers take pity.

At nights, the isolation worsens. There are neither streetlights nor lit porches - just dark lanes and flickering phone torches.

"When yuh go outside a night time, it's like yuh a pick offa cow back," Warren said.

The cost of living without services is taking its toll. Several homes now sit abandoned, their owners gone in search of better conditions.

"Mi neighbour move gone, good-good house, cause no light, no water, no road," Warren added.

Despite their frustrations, residents say they continue to hope the electrification project will finally reach them. Under the Community Electrification Project, the Jamaica Social Investment Fund, in collaboration with the JPS, promises to wire homes, install smart meters, and recover costs gradually through utility billing. As of this month, over 9,000 households across Manchester and St Elizabeth have reportedly been connected through the initiative, and Phase Two, of which Little Tivoli is a part, targets an additional 4,800 homes.

Still, residents say the promises mean little without action.

"PNP come, Labour Party come, vote vote vote, and not a soul help wi," Witter said. "Any weh we get justice, a deh so we tan."

With school starting soon, the pipes still dry, and the lights still borrowed, residents are left to navigate yet another season of waiting.

"We just want to live normal," Warren said. "We just want light."