A judge, a girl whose mother is a chef, and I

Opportunity, power, and the people’s airport

By Marlon Bute

A little over a year ago, I passed through the security gate at Argyle International Airport on my way to Toronto. My Air Canada flight had been delayed, and for once I was not rushing through the terminal with one eye on the clock.

So, I wandered.

Airports are interesting places when one has time to look around. There is the smell of coffee and baked bread, the movement of travellers, the conversations between strangers, and the quiet business of people going somewhere. Airports are crossroads of commerce, ambition, migration, and dreams.

Eventually, I stopped to get something to eat.

The first restaurant did not appeal to me, so I walked to another nearby and ordered a sandwich. While waiting, I struck up a conversation with a young woman behind the counter, slim, sharp-eyed, and thoughtful beyond her years.

Somewhere in the conversation, she casually mentioned that the restaurant where she worked, the other nearby restaurant, the upstairs bar, and even stores downstairs were all owned by the same person or company.

I paused.

Surely, I had misunderstood.

So, I asked her to repeat it.

She did.

Everything belonged to the same owner.

Immediately, something about it disturbed me. Argyle International Airport was built with taxpayers’ money. It is a national asset. How, in a small country with limited opportunities, could one entity control virtually all the prime food and beverage spaces inside such a facility?

Then the young woman added:

“Imagine that, and my mommy is a chef and can’t even get a place to cook.”

That statement stayed with me.

Not because her mother had applied and failed, but because there had never really been an open opportunity in the first place. No transparent process. No meaningful invitation for ordinary Vincentians with ambition, skill, and ideas to step forward.

The airport belongs to the people of St. Vincent and the Grenadines. The commercial spaces inside it should therefore be managed in a fair and transparent way, giving multiple Vincentian entrepreneurs an opportunity to grow, employ people, and build wealth.

Instead, one company appeared to dominate the food and beverage landscape there.

That struck me as exclusionary and greedy.

What message does that send to the roadside vendor, the baker, the cook, the small shopkeeper, or the young entrepreneur dreaming of expanding into a premium commercial space?

Public assets should serve the public interest, not narrow circles of privilege.

Still annoyed, I walked across to the bar, where the bartender carefully confirmed what I had already been told. It was there that I came into conversation with a retired judge who saw nothing wrong with the arrangement.

His explanation was simple: nobody else wanted the spaces.

I could hardly believe it.

In a country full of hustlers, traders, cooks, dreamers, and ambitious people? In a country where people fight every day to create opportunities out of almost nothing?

No. I could not accept that explanation.

I grew up seeing entrepreneurship everywhere in St. Vincent and the Grenadines. Along the streets of Kingstown. In the villages. By the roadside. Women selling fruits, cooked food, cakes, juices, peanuts, black pudding, provisions, anything that could help feed a family or send a child to school.

Our people have always had ingenuity.

What they often lack is not ambition or willingness to work. What they lack is access to opportunity and access to capital.

That was why the airport matter troubled me. It was never merely about restaurants. It was about access. It was about whether ordinary Vincentians could realistically participate in the economic spaces created within their own country.

But systems like these do not change on their own.

Eventually, people grow frustrated when opportunities circulate among the same familiar faces while ordinary citizens remain locked outside looking in. Networks harden. Access narrows. Public assets begin to feel private. And an entire people can begin to feel that opportunity is something reserved for others.

So, when I recently saw public requests for proposals inviting applications for restaurant and bar spaces at Argyle International Airport, I saw more than commercial vacancies.

I saw possibility.

A chef. A baker. A bartender. A family business. A young entrepreneur with an idea.

In practical terms, it creates opportunities for more Vincentians to access valuable commercial space, build businesses, create employment, and generate wealth. In symbolic terms, it says something equally important: that public assets should not quietly benefit a narrow circle, but should be opened fairly so that ordinary people have access to opportunity.

Access matters because when access is widened, hope is widened also, and ordinary people begin to see advancement not as a favour from the powerful, but as a real possibility.

The decision to publicly invite applications for the airport spaces must also be viewed alongside Prime Minister Dr. Friday’s stated commitment to pursuing a national development bank, even against IMF advice.

A properly structured development bank can help provide capital to entrepreneurs, farmers, fishers, agro-processors, musicians, craftspeople, and small businesses seeking to start, expand, employ people, produce, and create wealth.

Taken together, these things suggest a shift towards people-focused governance.

And that matters.

Because national development ultimately depends on production, ownership, employment, and broader participation in the economy. We need more Vincentians producing. We need more Vincentians owning. We need more Vincentians building businesses, creating jobs, and expanding the national economy.

But we must go further.

The same principle must also apply to the public service.

For too long, many people have felt that advancement within sections of the public service depended less on merit, competence, and professionalism, and more on political loyalty and proximity to power. Good and capable people were too often overlooked, sidelined, underutilised, or discouraged while partisan considerations appeared to carry greater weight than performance or national service.

That must change.

A modern state cannot function at its best when institutions are shaped around political tribalism. The public service must be rooted in meritocracy, professionalism, discipline, integrity, competence, and loyalty to the country rather than loyalty to any political party.

And where political cronies have been placed into important positions primarily because of partisan loyalty, they should be replaced by persons who are qualified, fair-minded, professional, and genuinely committed to serving the state and the Vincentian people.

The public service does not belong to any political party. It belongs to the nation.

The same principle applies to land.

Land is one of the most important resources connected to opportunity in St. Vincent and the Grenadines. In a small island state, concentration of land ownership inevitably creates exclusion.

Whether it is 50 acres, 75 acres, 95 acres, or more, the principle remains the same. No one person, family, or connected circle should be able to quietly accumulate large portions of land while ordinary Vincentians struggle to get a small piece to build a home, plant a crop, or start a business.

If we are serious about widening opportunity, then land access, title clarity, and fair distribution must become part of the national conversation. Opportunity cannot only mean a shop at the airport. It must also mean access to land, capital, public services, and the resources necessary for ordinary people to build wealth.

As the plane lifted off from Argyle International Airport and climbed above the hills and waters of St. Vincent and the Grenadines, I kept thinking about that young woman behind the counter. Her sharpness. Her honesty. Her frustration. She reminded me of the spirit that exists all over this country: the woman with the food stall, the man with the fishing boat, the farmer, the baker, the small shopkeeper, the young person with an idea but no capital, no connection, and no access.

Her mother could very well have been operating a restaurant at that same airport. They could have been building a family business, creating employment, developing a brand, and contributing to the country. Instead, they were locked out of a space that belonged, in principle, to all of us.

This is not about envy or malice. It is not about pulling down those who have succeeded. It is about ensuring that public assets create public opportunity. It is about wanting ordinary Vincentians to have a fair chance to rise, compete, create, fail, recover, build, and succeed.

That is how strong nations are built: one opportunity at a time.

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