WASA, Influencer Jobs and Water Woes: How a Broken Utility Became Trinidad’s Latest Political Payroll Scandal

Trinidad and Tobago has lived with WASA water woes for so long that citizens have practically developed a sixth sense for dry taps.

You hear a strange cough in the pipe, you pause. You see a little brown water sputter out, you start filling buckets. You hear WASA say “scheduled interruption,” and the whole household enters survival mode like a hurricane coming.

So when the country learned that social media influencers were reportedly among hundreds of people hired by WASA after the 2025 general election, the outrage was not simply about jobs.

It was about insult.

Because while citizens are still catching water in barrels, while communities still wait on truck-borne supply, while businesses still lose money when the tap runs dry, the public is now being asked to swallow the idea that one of the most financially broken utilities in the country somehow had space on the payroll for political social media voices.

And that is where this story moves from bacchanal to national accountability.

“The scandal is not that people got jobs. The scandal is that a broken utility under billion-dollar pressure may have become a political reward machine.”

WASA Influencer Jobs and the Dry-Tap Reality

According to Guardian Media reporting, WASA hired nine out of a proposed batch of 12 social media influencers, with their combined monthly salaries reportedly totalling $85,398.92. Those influencers were said to be among 416 people hired or engaged by the authority after the April 28, 2025 general election, between April 29 and November 30, 2025.

Let that soak in.

A country that cannot reliably deliver water to every household can apparently deliver contracts quickly enough after an election.

The report stated that some of the influencers were placed under ordinary WASA job titles, with salaries reaching as high as $12,500 per month. It also alleged that some were being used around corporate communications to defend the Government online and respond to critics.

Now, to be fair, employment itself is not the crime. Nobody should be attacked simply for getting work. Trinidad and Tobago is hard enough already. People need jobs. Families need salaries. Young people need opportunities.

But that is not the question here.

The question is whether WASA, a utility that has been financially bleeding for years, hired based on need, competence, transparency and service delivery, or whether public money was used to reward political loyalty and online usefulness.

That is the heart of the outrage.

Because if WASA needed engineers, leak repair crews, treatment plant specialists, customer service officers, field technicians or data systems people, the public would understand. But when taxpayers hear “influencers” and “WASA” in the same sentence, while they still cannot get consistent water, the anger is not manufactured. It is natural.

A Utility That Has Drained the Treasury for Years

WASA did not become a national headache yesterday.

For years, the authority has been held up as one of the clearest examples of what happens when a public utility becomes bloated, inefficient, expensive and politically sensitive all at the same time.

Earlier reporting said WASA officials disclosed to a parliamentary committee in 2021 that the authority had a $10 billion debt. Guardian reporting also previously described WASA as cash-strapped and highlighted how billions had been spent over the years on infrastructure and improvement efforts without delivering the promised 24/7 water supply for the overwhelming majority of citizens.

That is the part that people must not miss.

This was never just a “PNM versus UNC” issue. WASA has been a long-running national failure. Governments came and went. Ministers changed. Boards changed. Promises changed. But too many citizens still had the same routine: store water, call WASA, wait, complain, repeat.

The utility became a drain on the Treasury, a burden on taxpayers and a symbol of public-sector dysfunction.

And when something is that broken, reform is not cruelty.

Reform is responsibility.

The Reform WASA Needed

Under the previous PNM government, WASA was placed on a transformation path that was supposed to reduce bloat, modernise the organisation and make the utility less dependent on taxpayers.

The IDB-backed National Water Sector Transformation Programme was not just about moving chairs around an office. Its stated objectives included improving the efficiency, quality, sustainability and resilience of potable water supply and water security in Trinidad and Tobago.

The programme spoke to water-loss reduction, network rehabilitation, better governance, digital transformation tools, data-driven management systems and reducing operating costs and subsidies.

In plain Trini:

Stop guessing.
Stop leaking.
Stop wasting.
Stop making taxpayers carry a broken system forever.

Former Public Utilities Minister Marvin Gonzales later argued that the scrapped transformation plan would have produced deeper savings by restructuring lower-level management, reportedly reducing management numbers from 422 to 246 and saving WASA about $43 million annually after full implementation.

Whether citizens loved the PNM or not, the central logic was difficult to dismiss: WASA was too expensive, too inefficient and too unreliable to continue as usual.

And that phrase matters.

Business as usual.

Because business as usual is how we got here.

Then the UNC Tore It Up

When the UNC returned to government in 2025, Prime Minister Kamla Persad-Bissessar publicly rejected the PNM-era WASA transformation plan. Newsday reported that she ripped up a copy of the plan at a post-Cabinet press conference, to applause from ministers and the PSA president.

Politically, it was theatre.

Visually, it was powerful.

But in hindsight, it may also become one of the most symbolic moments of this government’s early term.

Because when a leader physically tears up a reform plan for one of the country’s most broken utilities, the public is entitled to ask: what replaced it?

A better reform?
A clearer plan?
A stronger governance model?
A faster water-delivery strategy?
A serious manpower audit?
A transparent hiring system?

Or did we simply go from reform to reward?

That is why the influencer hiring controversy has exploded.

It fits too neatly into the fear people already had: that once the reform plan was gone, WASA would slide right back into the old culture of political protection, payroll expansion and public money with private loyalty attached.

“WASA was supposed to stop leaking money. Instead, taxpayers are asking whether the leak was simply redirected to the payroll.”

From Leaky Pipes to Payroll Pipes

The best way to understand the public anger is simple.

WASA has always had a leak problem.

Leaking pipes.
Leaking revenue.
Leaking confidence.
Leaking billions from the Treasury.
Leaking patience from citizens.

Now the country is asking whether the newest leak is political payroll.

That is why this scandal has legs.

Because it is not just about nine influencers. It is about 416 hires. It is about timing. It is about qualifications. It is about whether vacancies were advertised. It is about whether interviews were conducted. It is about whether WASA’s true operational needs were prioritised. It is about whether taxpayers are funding water service or political messaging.

And when a public utility hires people after an election, especially people with visible political social media presence, the burden of transparency becomes even heavier.

WASA cannot simply say “trust us.”

Trust ran dry long before the taps did.

Public Money, Political Loyalty and the Water Crisis

The country’s frustration is also rooted in fairness.

A WASA worker digging in the hot sun to fix a leaking line is public service.
A plant operator keeping water treatment systems running is public service.
A customer service officer helping frustrated citizens is public service.
A technical team reducing water loss is public service.

But a politically friendly online personality defending government decisions while drawing a state salary from a broken utility?

That is where the public sees red.

Because citizens are not paying taxes for campaign energy to be carried into state companies. They are paying taxes for roads, water, schools, hospitals, safety and functioning public services.

And WASA is not a public relations playground. It is a basic survival utility.

No water means children cannot bathe properly before school. Businesses cannot operate normally. Elderly citizens suffer. Families spend money on tanks, pumps and bottled water. Communities lose faith in the state.

So when people see influencer jobs attached to WASA, the reaction is not jealousy.

It is rage from people who are tired of being told to sacrifice while politics eats first.

The Accountability Questions WASA Must Answer

If the hires were legitimate, then transparency should be easy.

WASA should be able to tell the public:

Were the positions advertised?
What were the job descriptions?
What qualifications were required?
Who interviewed the applicants?
Who approved the contracts?
What departments requested these roles?
How many hires were technical versus administrative or communications-related?
How many of the 416 hires are directly linked to improving water delivery?
What measurable improvement in service has followed the hiring?
Why were influencers needed at a utility that already struggles with core operations?

These are not wicked questions.

These are taxpayer questions.

And in a country where citizens are constantly told there is not enough money, the public has every right to ask why a utility with decades of financial problems appears to have expanded its payroll so quickly after an election.

The Real Scandal Is Bigger Than the Influencers

The influencer angle is viral, yes.

But the real scandal is deeper.

The real scandal is that WASA was supposed to be moving away from the very culture that allowed inefficiency, patronage and waste to survive for decades.

The reform process was important because it recognised a painful truth: WASA could not continue as a bloated, expensive, unreliable utility forever. At some point, the country had to choose between protecting the old system and fixing the water system.

The UNC chose to tear up the PNM’s plan.

Now, as the influencer hiring controversy grows, the Government must explain what it built in its place.

Because if the answer is simply more hiring, more politics, more opacity and the same dry taps, then the country has not been rescued from WASA’s old problems.

It has been returned to them with Wi-Fi, ring lights and hashtags.

“The pipe dry, the Treasury drained, but the political payroll somehow still flowing.”

Trinidad Is Not Short of Influencers. It Is Short of Water.

This is why the WASA influencer jobs controversy has struck such a nerve.

It captures everything people hate about politics in one story: a struggling state company, a costly payroll, questionable appointments, political defenders, weak transparency and citizens still waiting on basic service.

WASA was not supposed to be a reward centre.

It was supposed to be reformed.

The country does not need more online defenders of government decisions. It needs water in taps. It needs less waste. It needs fewer excuses. It needs a utility that works like a utility, not a political shelter with pipes attached.

And that is the line the public will remember:

A country can survive without government influencers.

It cannot survive without reliable water.

This story is part of our wider Trinidad Politics Explained coverage. Explore the full hub for political analysis, key background, major controversies, and the latest updates.