Tiled Floor: A Band-Aid Solution for a Long-Term Wound

Daphne Santuyo

Every morning, before the town fully wakes up, the Ipil Wet Market comes alive. Vendors arrange freshly caught fish on tiled tables, arrange vegetables in different stalls, and prepare for another long day of honest work. For many families, this market is not just a place of trade. It is their livelihood, their daily bread, their hope. Yet for the longest time, the very space that sustains them has also endangered them and even the general market-goers.

When a heavy rain falls, a strange and almost surreal scene unfolds. Despite the presence of a roof, rainwater pours inside the wet market. Vendors and buyers alike have been seen opening umbrellas indoors, carefully navigating puddles as if they were outdoors. These moments, often captured and shared on Facebook, drew laughter from some. But behind the humor was a quiet cry for help. A reminder that this problem had been endured for far too long.

The roof was only part of the story. Beneath everyone’s feet lay an even greater danger.

The wet market floor, then made of old cement, had long been a hazard, especially during the rainy season. Water, fish scales, and daily washing turned the surface into a slippery trap. There were countless stories of people losing their balance with some walking away shaken, others nursing bruises and injuries. Senior citizens, who frequent the market daily, were especially at risk. And yet, despite the public market being one of the LGU’s sources of revenue, these problems lingered year after year, unresolved.

In 2021, a solution finally came. At least on paper. Using more than three million pesos from the LGU’s GAD budget, a project was implemented to address the issue of the slippery floor. Tiles were laid over the old cement, giving the market a cleaner, more modern appearance. At first glance, it seemed like progress. The floor looked new, polished, even beautiful.

But beauty, it turned out, was dangerously misleading.

The tiles installed were not designed for a wet market. Instead of non-slip materials suited for constant moisture, smooth tiles were used—tiles that might have worked in offices or dry commercial spaces, but not in a place where water continuously flows. The problem did not improve; it worsened. The floor became even more slippery than before.

Almost every day, someone would fall.

Vendors slipping while hauling goods. Market-goers sliding unexpectedly. Elderly buyers struggling to regain balance, sometimes unable to stand up without help. What was supposed to be a safety measure became a daily threat. The wet market, meant to serve the people, had quietly turned into a place of fear and injury.

Right after his election, Mayor Ramses Troy Olegario acted swiftly to prevent further harm. As an immediate response, rubber mats were placed on top of the tiles to reduce accidents. For a while, they helped. People walked more cautiously but with less fear. However, the solution was only temporary. The constant dragging of fish boxes, carts, and heavy loads quickly tore the rubber mats apart. Replacing them repeatedly was not a solution for the LGU.

A technical assessment team was formed to evaluate whether the tiled floor could still be salvaged. After all, more than three million pesos had already been spent out of the LGU’s coffers. But the conclusion was painful yet clear: no matter how expensive or visually appealing the tiles were, they were useless in a wet market. Worse, they posed a serious risk to life. In the wrong moment, one slip could be fatal.

And so, a hard decision was made. The tiles had to be scraped off.

Returning to a rougher surface was not a step backward. It was a step toward safety. It was an acknowledgment that mistakes had been made and that the lives and well-being of the people mattered more than appearances or sunk costs.

Today, the people of Ipil are once again waiting….waiting for a new public market building that can finally provide comfort, dignity, and safety for everyone. But as we wait, an uncomfortable question remains: Was this a waste of the people’s money?

Perhaps it was. But the real tragedy goes beyond pesos and projects. It lies in decisions made without fully understanding the realities on the ground, without listening closely enough to the vendors and citizens who bear the consequences every day. This story is not just about a tiled floor, it is about governance, accountability, and the human cost of poorly planned solutions.

And this is only part of the picture.

There is another issue quietly simmering beneath the surface, the awarding of stalls in the public market. A story that deserves its own space, its own scrutiny, and its own reckoning.

We will talk about that in the next issue.