From the outside, a look inside will tell you that something is definately not right. There are layers of fence that enclose this place. Like a prison astretch of fencing runs along its faint porous bounderies, leaving this place on one side and a stretch of fine tarmac upon which outsiders throw a glance through the fence and ponder on what could be going on. A small on way dusty road leads you down to this place were behold a metallic gate welcomes you. Behind this gate, few if any ever get out more than once every two fort nights. The metallic gate behind you, reinforced with security men that man it, is were the outside world stops. From now on, we will be detained and held here.
As my presence is recognised by the kind direction of one of the few that beings that roam the face of this place, criscrossing from one corner of the institution to another. Am immediately shown my room were I find a handfull of people I will call friends, colleagues and even rivals or competitors. So many things have happened in this place. Sun has risen and dusk beheld the evening of each day. We have been here close to three months and alot of things have been going on wrong. Many are dissatisfied with the trend of events and the conditions under which we are being subjected to, like we are being done a favour. Plans have been made, letters changed hands and the last I had is that a strike is imminent.