African mud hutz or Irish security huts?

Out of West Africa to safeguard Dublin

OUR friends out of West Africa have landed on their feet, if not their butts, working away as static security guards across our green and pleasant land.
Courteous to a fault, they direct us into our parking spots with big broad smiles and a cheery hello.

But we rarely know their names, their life stories or why they've left their land for ours.

We are shielded from their reality by laminated windscreens, breakfast radio distractions and a desire to grab a coffee before the 'bell'.

We open up computer screen windows for emails but rarely lower car windows to say good morning to those in uniform who crank up our offices from their night-time slumber.

Maybe Amarach (tomorrow) I'll say 'hello, howya or god be with you'.