Overview of the Tunapuna Market 

They Had Ten Years…….

Now They Want Three Months

BY Dr JACK AUSTIN WARNER

For decades, the Tu­napuna–Piarco Re­gional Corporation (TPRC) has been a text­book example of what hap­pens when political loyalty is placed above public ser­vice. 

Mismanagement. Cost overruns. Unpaid contrac­tors. Dilapidated facilities. Broken trust. If there is one institution that captures the PNM’s habit of turning public bodies into private playgrounds, this is it.

And now, in classic PNM fashion, when the political ground has finally shifted beneath their feet, the Corpora­tion suddenly wants to perform gover­nance – loudly, abruptly, and at the ex­pense of some of the hardest-working and most vulnerable people in Tuna­puna: the vendors of the Tunapuna Market.

A Corporation That Owes Every­one – Except the People

Talk to contractors in Tunapuna.

Talk to suppliers.

Talk to community groups.

The story is always the same: de­layed payments, shifting excuses, projects that balloon in cost and shrink in quality. The Tunapuna–Piarco Re­gional Corporation seems to owe ev­erybody – financially, morally, adminis­tratively  – yet somehow always avoids owing the people basic competence and respect.

This is not a one-off problem.

This is institutional culture.

And culture does not change be­cause a press release says it has.

Statesmanship on Display, Neglect in the Rearview

The recent passing of Eddie Hart has understandably prompted reflec­tion and some reverent introspection. He served. He contributed. He worked with youth and sport. For that, he de­serves respect.

But let us not kid ourselves.

Eddie Hart’s death gives the PNM-dominated Corporation the opportunity to cloak itself in solemnity, wrap itself in statesmanship, and put on a digni­fied display – hoping that ostentatious ceremony today will cancel neglect yesterday.  It will not.

Funerals do not erase failure. Cer­emony does not substitute for compe­tence.

And wreaths do not fix broken insti­tutions.

Enter the Market Bullying

And so we arrive at the latest dis­grace: the bullying of vendors at the Tunapuna Market.  The Corporation’s brilliant solution to years – decades – of neglect?  Close the market for three months and tell vendors to “find a time that works.”  Madam Corpora­tion CEO, allow me to be very plain.  I would like YOU to find three months when:

• you do not have to buy groceries,

• you do not have to buy medicine,

• you do not have to send children to school,

• you do not have to put gas in your car,

• you do not have to worry about higher traffic fines,

• you do not have to pay a light bill.

Once you find those three months first, then you can ask vendors to sacri­fice theirs.  Until then, spare them your arrogance and dictatorship.  

PNM Governance: Neglect First, Hardship Later

But let’s be honest, this is the PNM model of administration, perfected over decades:

Ignore problems for years.

Allow infrastructure to decay.

Do nothing while people complain.

Then, suddenly, impose harsh mea­sures on ordinary citizens.

Call it reform.

That is not leadership, it is raw, unfil­tered governance by ambush.

The Tunapuna Market did not col­lapse last year. It deteriorated slowly and predictably under a decade of PNM stewardship at the Corporation.

And now, with a new UNC MP in place, suddenly the Corporation wants to flex muscle –  not with solutions, but with shutdowns.

The timing is not accidental.

The motive is not mysterious.

The Tunapuna–Piarco Regional Corporation remains politically aligned to a party the people of this constituen­cy have already soundly rejected.

The MP has changed.  The Corpo­ration has not.  And that is why this episode smells less like development and more like political manoeuvring – a frantic attempt to look busy, look rel­evant, and look indispensable, even if that relevance is manufactured on the backs of struggling vendors.

A Market Is Not a Building — It Is an Economy

The PNM has always struggled to understand the working class. That is why policies are announced from air-conditioned offices with no apprecia­tion for life on the ground.

The Tunapuna Market is not a fa­cility. It is an economy – the hub of economic activity in an area that is struggling with crime and youth unem­ployment. 

Close it, and you do not merely in­terrupt business – you destroy income.

You do not inconvenience vendors – you destabilise families and create hunger.

PNM administrators think in proj­ects, not people.

They see concrete, not consequenc­es.

Where Was This Energy for Ten Years?

For ten long years, Esmond Forde and the PNM presided over Tunapuna as its MP and also was aligned to this Corporation.  Ten years.

What was done to maintain the mar­ket so that small fixes could be done gradually?

What was done to modernise facili­ties? What was done to support ven­dors? Nothing.

Urgency has appeared not because conditions changed, but because poli­tics changed.

And in true PNM style, the Corpo­ration now reacts instead of reflecting.

Let us remind ourselves what Es­mond Forde promised Tunapuna in 2020. In his so-called vision statement for 2020 -2025, he declared his inten­tion to support business growth and en­courage entrepreneurs to thrive.  Fine words. Lofty ambitions.  Hot air.  

But here is the inconvenient truth: in that six-page “vision” document, there was no serious plan for the Tunapuna Market.  Not a line. Not a paragraph. Not even a passing mention.

So where was this concern when vi­sions were being written and promises were being sold?

Because a market is not simply a place of commerce. It is a place of so­cial cohesion – where trust is built, re­lationships formed, and communities sustained.

Yes, the Market Needs Work — But Not This Way

Let us be clear: the Tunapuna Mar­ket does need upgrading. Vendors have said so for years. Better sanitation. Safer stalls. Modern facilities. Clean, dignified spaces.

But upgrading a market is not just a construction project.  It is a social proj­ect.

And social projects cannot be run by decree.  They require thoughtful consultation, phased implementation, proper project management, and re­spect for livelihoods.

Closing the market for three months without a serious transition plan is not reform – it is administrative folly and dunce governance.

In a phone discusion with the Cor­poration Chairman Josiah Austin, he stated that nothing has been decided as yet, but the vendors do not believe him.

There Are Better Ways – If Humil­ity Exists

Renovations could be phased.  Con­struction could be staggered. Tempo­rary locations could be arranged. Dif­ferent categories of vendors could be accommodated intelligently.

But those solutions require consul­tation, not command. Empathy, not edicts.

Leadership, not loudness. And those qualities have been conspicuously ab­sent at the Tunapuna – Piarco Regional Corporation.

This isn’t simply about a preposter­ous demand for vendors to abandon their livelihoods for 3 months, it is about how institutions treat poor peo­ple.  It is about how power behaves when challenged.  It is about how polit­ical cultures cope with electoral defeat.

The PNM lost the constituency. 

But it still controls the Corporation.

And until that reality changes, the people will continue to pay the price.

A Final Word to the CEO

Madam CEO, leadership is not about issuing instructions. It is about understanding impact.

If your plan requires vendors to starve for three months, it is not de­velopment – it is displacement.  If your strategy humiliates those you claim to serve, it is not progress – it is power abuse.

Tunapuna deserves better.

The vendors deserve better.

And the people have already said they want better than the PNM way.

Find another way.

Not a louder way.

Not a harsher way.

A better way.

And let me say this plainly: if the Tu­napuna–Piarco Regional Corporation believes that bullying market vendors will somehow rehabilitate the PNM’s battered reputation in this constituency, then it has learned absolutely nothing from the political reckoning it has al­ready faced. Power that forgets people eventually loses both. 

You cannot renovate your way out of a credibility crisis. You cannot bulldoze your way back into public trust. And you certainly cannot punish the poor to polish the image of a party that had ten long years to fix what it now pretends to care about. 

Tunapuna has seen this movie be­fore – and this time, the ending will not be kind to those who still confuse au­thority with responsible leadership.