By James E. Knight
The problems at Antigua's Public Treasury are not new. For as long as I have worked in the Public Service, visits to that institution have meant witnessing ordinary people — poor people — making trip after trip, spending money on bus fare and drinking water, only to return home empty-handed. I once complained loudly on their behalf. That was a long time ago.
Fast forward to 2026. There is a new building — better organised, modern computer technology, sharper-looking and more academically qualified staff. One would reasonably expect improvement. Alas.
I held a one-year contract with the Ministry of Tourism from August 2023 to July 2024, for which I was to receive a full salary. I was then retained for a second year, August 2024 to July 2025, on a modest retainer. During that first year, no salary was deposited to my bank account until the end of January 2024 — meaning I went five months without pay. I did, however, receive salary payments for two months — August and September — that fell into the second contract period, when only the retainer should have applied. Simple subtraction would resolve the discrepancy. And yet I received nothing at all for the second contract.
It is now the end of March 2026. After more than a year, numerous interventions by senior Ministry of Tourism staff, and a more recent intervention by the Minister of Finance — who also serves as Prime Minister — Treasury staff remain unable to determine that they owe me three months of salary from the first year, once the two erroneous payments are subtracted, plus all retainer payments owed for the second year.
Repeatedly, I was told I could not be found in the payroll system — this despite having received a gratuity at the end of the first contract. If I don't exist in the system, for what exactly was that gratuity issued? More troubling still, there is now a suggestion that I may have been overpaid and could in fact owe the Treasury money. I ask plainly: where are the records of those supposed payments? My bank records for both years show no deposits beyond the nine months of salary that correspond to the first contract year.
Basic arithmetic, common sense and computerised records should make this kind of confusion impossible. And yet, when I returned to the Treasury following the Minister of Finance's intervention, I was initially told — again — that I did not exist in the system. Only after I raised my voice was it discovered that there were cheques waiting for me. A Payroll Assistant instructed me to return within a few days to collect them.
I returned, reluctantly. A different Payroll Assistant was at the window. No one knew what I was referring to. I was not in the system. In frustration, I raised my voice and struck the counter. I found it inconceivable that after a ministerial intervention and an explicit promise from Treasury staff, I was in the exact same position as I had been more than a year earlier.
A police officer removed me from the premises and threatened to arrest me. I controlled my temper, frankly, because he was armed. I am not asking for extravagance. I am asking for overdue salary.
The following day, I received a call about some cheques, which had been sent to the Ministry of Tourism. I waited a day before collecting them — a wise decision, as it turned out. The cheques covered small miscellaneous amounts unrelated to the Tourism contracts: a per diem from a trip in 2017, minor payments for brief stints acting as Chief Medical Officer. All of it predated my time at the Ministry of Tourism entirely.
And so, once these matters are eventually — perhaps painfully — resolved, I will then need to explain to the Treasury that I have not held any government contract since July 2025, and that my small government pension should now be activated, retroactively. One wonders how long that will take. Whether they will find me in the system. The institution has demonstrated it cannot manage two tasks at once, let alone three. For now, I simply want to be paid what I am owed from the Ministry of Tourism contract.
