If it wasn't for the razor wire-bedecked roofs, it could almost be the venue for a church coffee morning. We are in a cavernous hall lined with various stalls, staffed by expectant men and women in their thirties and forties. Above the polite chatter the strains of a Johnny Cash song can be heard. Gradually, the room fills up with young men wearing blue and white striped shirts, black trousers and green...