Stepping out of the large arena, I asked the expansive blue sky, “What do you think of all this begging?”
Eventually accepting the sky’s refusal to partake in any discourse, I sighed and re-entered the hive of organised chaos, readying myself for the propaganda to which I’d sold my soul.
At one side of each table were smartly dressed individuals, all of whom had travelled hours to this foreign country, while queues of people gathered at the opposite side, references, and documentation in hand.
Pausing, I asked a smiling applicant, “Do you have a moment to say a few words to The Irish Politico?”
“Yes.”
“Thank you. What brought you here today?”
“My brother applied in the last round and he’s living in County Cork now, working for an engineering company and earning a higher wage than he could ever earn here. So, the moment I qualified from college, I was always going to follow him and when it was announced Ireland was to bid this weekend, I applied and was selected for today’s recruitment drive. Thankfully I just secured a job and I’m to travel in two weeks- once all the documentation is finalised -.”
“Congratulations.”
“Thank you. And I know there are cynics in my country towards these drives. You saw the protestors on your way in. But they are all a generation beyond me, a generation who often misquote the treatment of my ancestors decades ago. As your media and others write, it’s all misinformation. And my brother says Ireland is a great country for migrants, he’s seen nothing but the best in people, so I do apologise for those who say bad things about you… I am sorry, I really must go, my family are waiting to hear my news.”
Thanking the lady for her time and congratulating her once again, I mused on our history, a chequered one when it came to migration. My own grandfather swearing there was a time when migrants were treated inhumanly and put in tents with no access to sanitary facilities. But any attempts we in the media made at digging, found the soil fell from beneath our prying hands.
With fertility in steep decline and our aging population a war in its own right, our government had become fixated on improving the ratio of pensioners to workers, aware the desired ratio was more than just a desire, but a necessity to stave off a growing budget deficit, dwindling pension pots and the biggest fear of all, a civil war.
Without these men and women, first world countries were set to crumble, and the people in them destined to starve.
Working migrants were the new weapons and artillery, weapons Ireland was competing for with other rich nations. A month from now and the US was to be in town, two months later and it was the UK. Each country a recruitment officer in an new era known as “The hunt for the desired ratio.”
