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Cherwell Food & Drink Awards HT17

Sam Purnell
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Cherwell Food & Drink Awards HT17

After about 200 more votes than our original estimate of ten replies, we had some surprise winners and some that everyone knew would also win.

Star Baker: Ben’s Cookies (64.4%)
A true star of Oxford, Ben’s has the best cookies you’ll ever eat and they’re always unbelievably warm and fresh. Located in the Covered Market, they’re the perfect pick-me- up or guilty snack.

Best place for a Rad Cam snack-break: Alternative Tuck Shop (47.9%)
You probably won’t have a sandwich as fresh or as high quality anywhere else in Oxford. They have a huge range of fillings and everything is made-to-order. It is easy to see why there is often a queue stretching down Holywell Street but, because of their lightning fast sandwich abilities, you’ll be re-energised for a soul-destroying afternoon stint in the Rad Cam.

Best post-club kebab van: Hassan’s (64.5%)
After causing brief outrage amongst many members of Corpus Christi JCR at Ahmed’s omission from the original list, Hassan’s stormed ahead. If you haven’t been post-club, have you really had a true Oxford night out?

Best place to get smashed but stay classy: Turf Tavern (38.4%)
I’m slightly annoyed that Freud came second: it’s near to perfect, with the pricing being its only downfall. However, Turf Tavern is the best place to be in the summer—sitting outside there with a drink and top-notch conversation will be one of your best memories of Oxford.

Best hangover brunch: George Street Social (22.9%)
This category had the most “other” votes—we all obviously love our brunch here at Oxford. We’ve already reviewed the George Street Social once this term, so it’s obvious that we love the food here. There were also a high number of colleges represented here (St. Anne’s, Mansfield, Hertford, St Hugh’s, Corpus), so it’s pretty clear that we all also love our college’s unique versions.

Best alt-indie eating experience: Gloucester Green Food Stalls (43.3%)
Three days a week Gloucester Green fills up with a myriad of international food stalls and each one doesn’t fail to impress—whether you go for some fried gyoza, mac and cheese or burgers, your appreciation for the Oxford food scene will forever be changed. This is the pinnacle of independent cooking in Oxford, so go stuff your face and feel good whilst doing so.

Most Instagram-able coffee shop: Vaults & Garden Café(29.2%)
Located just across from the Rad Cam is this highly picturesque coffee shop. With its high arched ceilings, long windows, and stunning exterior, it makes the perfect backdrop for any photo. I hear they even make some good coffee too.

Best vegetarian/vegan options: Vaults & Garden Café (33.3%)
I’m confused as to why Organic Deli didn’t win this, but oh well. This café has some stellar vegetarian options, such as its Goats Cheese gratin that will leave you wanting so much more.

Best hidden gem: Georgina’s Café Oxford (28.9%)
With a single vote deciding the winner (38 votes to 39), Georgina’s just edged out Pomegranate. Nestled away in the Covered Market is this quaint coffee shop, which offers a great selection of food and drink with a friendly smile.

Special Achievement award for best restaurant in Oxford: G&D’s (34.8%)
Did anyone ever doubt who would win this? G&D’s is an Oxford institution, as integral to the place as the Rad Cam. They have the best ice cream flavours and names, and everything is made on the premises. Everyone already knows how good they are, I don’t really need to say much else.

On a closing note, whoever said Spoons was the best brunch in Oxford, you’re wrong and you deserve better.

Oxford unites to condemn Trump

Cherwell Broadcasting
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Oxford unites to condemn Trump

Following on from Oxford’s protest against President Donald Trump, Cherwell Broadcasting is here to bring you some of the highlights from the event.

Review: ‘Collaborators’

Tilly Nevin
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Review: ‘Collaborators’

When his work was banned, Mikhail Bulgakov, playwright and author, sent a desperate letter to Stalin himself, asking to be exiled if he couldn’t work in the USSR. Stalin replied and his favour ensured that Bulgakov’s work continued to be published and performed. Bulgakov secured a position at the Moscow Art Theatre because of Stalin’s influence, and in 1938 he agreed to write a play about Stalin himself.

John Hodge’s play The Collaborators imagines that the relationship between Bulgakov and Stalin was longer and more intense than suspected; the two don’t just exchange letters but have regular telephone calls and secret meetings where Stalin writes the play of 1938 and Bulgakov signs orders ‘JS’ for Joseph Stalin, carrying out the General Secretary’s work. Eventually Hodge imagines that it was Bulgakov’s interference that led directly to the the mass execution of innocents.

A cupboard at the side of the stage functioned as not only an instance of the appalling living conditions which were endured at the time, but was also a device allowing characters to appear on stage or disappear back into. It added to the comic effects of the play, as in the first half Sergei (Jake Boswall) and Yelena (Miranda Collins) disappear into the cupboard together ‘to play chess’ or as Stalin bursts out from it, doors slamming behind him.

The cupboard becomes a part of Mikhail’s dream, allowing Stalin to chase the writer around his kitchen table until he’s cowering on the floor, caught. Sometimes it added a sense of realism to the play, sometimes some comic relief, and yet most of the time it seemed almost Alice-in-Wonderland-esque, adding to the ambiguity surrounding the relationship between Mikhail and Stalin.

Could any of this have truly happened or is it merely a part of an increasingly ill Bulgakov’s imagination? A door is opened to the hidden histories we might not ever fully know as well as to the imagination of the writer—in The Master and Margarita, the banned, Mikhail eponymous heroes move from domestic Bulgakov, playwright spaces into hell and into limbo. The Collaborators has been called a ‘surreal fantasy’ and the staging allowed us to enter into this world, never knowing what might emerge on stage.

Bulgakov increasingly seems to be abandoning his principles, defending to his friends Stalin’s orders for murder and the widespread persecution, and losing his ideals about the worth of the individual, freedom of expression and the importance of the writer as a voice of dissent.

The gradual disappearance of characters throughout the play doesn’t even seem to worry Bulgakov initially, though the audience misses the continual comic relief provided by Sergei and the other occupants of the house. In the first half of the play, the love between Mikhail and his wife is obvious as they dance around the table to music but in the second half the music jars as their relationship grows tense. Music is replaced by shots heard offstage.

The table transforms into the desk at which Stalin types up the play and Bulgakov signs orders, as the rosy glow of Bulgakov’s home subsides into darkness broken with a single spotlight. It is the site of the power-play between the two men where at first it seems like Bulgakov holds some power over Stalin but this is soon revealed as an ‘illusion’. Stalin calls himself obsessive over Bulgakov, but the latter also becomes obses- sive and keeps on returning to the meetings. Stalin, played by a hugely impressive Joe Peden, is sometimes jovial, sometimes angry and sometimes easily appeased by Bulgakov. At one point, incensed, he violently throws paper across the floor which remains lying there until the end of the play, reminding the audience just who this sometimes comic figure really is.

The acting was impressive with Rory Fraser playing an increasingly broken Bulgakov, slowly realising the consequences of his actions. ‘Actor One’ and ‘Actor Two’, played by Rupert Stonehill and Bella Soames, made the audience laugh uncontrollably; Alex Rugman and Sophie Badman as Vassily and Praskovya also provided moments of comic relief that, though understated, were still memorable.

It was particularly noticeable that these actors could convey both the comic and tragic: Rupert Stonehill who also played Grigory, and Callum Coghlan as Vladimir. This was one of best student productions I’ve seen while at Oxford with an enviable cast who did justice to this incredibly moving play.

Magdalen sports teams travel to Cambridge to face sister college

Danny Cowan
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Magdalen sports teams travel to Cambridge to face sister college

On Saturday 28 January, around 170 Magdalen students filed onto coaches bound for Cambridge, and the University sporting pinnacle of the year. Forget Varsity, forget the boat race, these college rivalry games are what it’s really all about.

While it’s true that college sport can be a gulf away from Blues-level in terms of the ability on show, it can often be far more important for the fans.

When you know every player on your team—eat with them, live with them, drink with them—there’s an added passion and desire to see them win, which you don’t see in all but the most interested Blues fans. This is why over a third of Magdalen’s students invaded Cambridge last Saturday, and it must be said that the invasion was successful. Probably the most important of the Magdalen vs Magdalene games is the rugby. This was Magdalen’s chance to put right Oxford’s loss at Twickenham in December, and they got off to a flying start.

It was not long before George Mason, an over-sized first year playing on the wing, burst through Magdalene’s defence to dot over for a try. Mason ended up coming away with another, after Dylan Merkel’s incredible cross field kick from 9 set him up for an easy run in. This was perhaps the best rugby move of the day, with MCRFC president Rob Mangan describing it accurately as “champagne rugby”.

John Saunders,  another fresher in the team, who plays at 7 and is renowned for his bone-crunching tackles and infamous death stare, came away with a double, while Sam Williams also dotted down.

Yet by far the most impressive try-scoring performance came from Captain Joe Cullen. His incredible pace on the Magdalen wing put him through for a remarkable five tries. Magdalene Cambridge had no answer to Magdalen’s play, which put through Cullen time after time, and resulted in a fitting performance from the Oxford captain, who deserves both the win and his personal success, after putting in so much effort organising training sessions, as well as the Magdalen vs Magdalene day itself.

Cambridge bagged a couple of consolation tries, but at the end of the game it was 64-10 to Magdalen Oxford, and it could well have been even more.

The real highlight, however, was not Joe’s five tries, nor the champagne rugby, but was rather Dom Taylor’s crunching dive into one of Magdalene’s players early on, in competition for the ball. It was reckless, it was brutal, and it was typical, beautiful, college rugby. We’ve all sat around watching videos of filthy Sunday league tackles—they’re part of the beauty of the low-level game, and college rugby is certainly not any different.

It was not just the rugby team that played on Saturday, though. Netball too, did their college proud. Down 5-9 going into the last quarter, an incredible comeback from the team saw them triumph over the Magdalene side 13-11, 8-2 in the fourth quarter.

Magdalen’s football team also took the sword to their Cambridge counterparts, both in their 5-1 thrashing of Magdalene’s football team, and their subsequent destructive win in the post-match boat race.

The already jovial atmosphere at the football, with the crowd having just witnessed a brilliant rugby performance and the remarkable netball comeback, was added to when the rugby boys arrived, bringing loud chants and many drinks to the side-lines.

The mixed hockey team lost, in a close affair that ended 2-1, but three emphatic wins from four games cemented Magdalen Oxford’s sporting dominance over our Cambridge counterparts.

Special thanks go to Magdalen’s JCR President, Hannah McNicol, for her tireless work to organise the day, as well as all the captains who helped her, and Magdalene Cambridge’s JCR—we look forward to hosting next year.

Nexus affected by “major incident”

Daniel Curtis
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Nexus affected by “major incident”

Oxford University’s Nexus system was hit by a “major incident” this morning following a “significant power outage” to their data centre.

Oxford university systems are therefore heavily “degraded”, making Oxford email inaccessible alongside “a wide number of IT services”.

At 11.08am, Oxford’s IT services wrote: “The [Nexus] service is only partially available and running ‘at risk’.”

WebLearn remains unaffected, despite widespread “partial” services elsewhere.

On their Systems Status feed, IT Services commented: “We will review this once the nature and extent of the problems at the SDC [shared data centre] become clearer. We apologise [sic] for this disruption and will endeavour to keep you informed through the day. HFS.”

Update: Services are being restored throughout the day. An update marked 12.22 states: “One of the data centres used by IT Services has suffered a significant power outage which has affected the availability of a wide number of IT services including Nexus, HFS and a number of university websites.” Mail services are still maked as “partial”.

Update #2: An update marked 14.03 reads: “Power in the Shared Data Centre has now been restored and is stable. Most of the of the affected services have been brought back online. The remaining services will continue to be worked on this afternoon. The Nexus service is working but is currently degraded. The service is only partially available and running ‘at risk’.”

Update #3: Mail services are now marked as restored.

Why we should care about Wales

Theo Davies-Lewis
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Why we should care about Wales

Wales has always been ignored by British media. A shadow of England, not as exciting as Scotland and not as politically unstable as Northern Ireland, Welsh news is rarely broadcast on national UK platforms.

Even the establishment of the Welsh-language television channel, S4C, was not something that appealed to the political class in London. While the Conservatives and Labour promised to implement one in the run up to the 1979 General Election, the new Home Secretary William Whitelaw decided against a Welsh channel, and suggested that, except for an occasional opt-out, the service should be the same as that offered in the rest of the UK. It took the former president of Plaid Cymru, Gwynfor Evans, threatening to go on hunger strike in 1980 if Margaret Thatcher’s government did not honour its commitment to provide a Welsh-language TV service.

However, it’s not only Welsh news that is few and far between. There are still funding issues behind S4C and BBC Wales. Only this week we have seen how a creative industries development in Carmarthen which includes the new headquarters of S4C should ‘not receive public money’. It’s quite surprising if you consider the programmes produced in Wales: Sherlock, Doctor Who and Casualty to name a few. Yet, the issue is not restricted to broadcasters, as newspaper sales in Wales have decreased over a number of years. Wales’ national newspaper, the Western Mail, had a circulation of 19,910 in January 2015 – a fall of 14.2% on the same time last year. This is arguably down to the dominance of London-based print outlets, which are more appealing to readers.

Only recently, there have been some developments in ensuring that Welsh news is widespread on nationwide radio and television stations. After all, the Welsh Assembly culture committee suggested that Welsh listeners to BBC Radio 1 and 2 should hear news bulletins about Wales at certain times of the day. Chairwoman Bethan Jenkins is right when she says said it would “better reflect Welsh life”, as well as how there should be an extra £30m to be spent each year on BBC English-language drama and broadcasting about Wales. Thus, it seems to be the case that even though Wales can make shows, there needs to be more about Wales in British media.

But why should we broadcast news about Wales? One could point out, as some critics have, that ‘nothing happens in Wales’. After all, in Scotland, Nicola Sturgeon’s political ambitions are a source of interest and of paramount importance to the rest of the UK, while the recent political crisis in Northern Ireland also has ramifications for other regions of the country. As well as this, Brexit continues to dominate the agenda in the media – meaning that some people don’t have time for any other form of news. Yet, Wales is full of news that is relevant to the UK as a whole. Take the success of Wales during Euro 2016 as an example: not only was Wales the last home nation left in the competition, but the story of this team reaching a major tournament after over fifty years in the footballing wilderness was a story like no other. Of course, this was covered by major media outlets, but it’s almost as if that has been forgotten in recent months. All you have to do is tune into Sky Sports’ coverage of any championship qualifier, where England and Scotland will be a higher priority on the main channels – even though Wales is ranked higher in the FIFA rakings than any other home nation. As well as this, one only has to look at the recent national steel crisis as to why Welsh news is vital to British broadcasting. There are several TATA steel plants in the UK, and the possibility of plants such as the one in Port Talbot in South Wales closing would have had a disastrous impact on the UK economy. In addition, while there is great attention paid to the NHS crisis in England, the disastrous record of the Welsh Labour government on health is rarely discussed on political shows and news bulletins. You can also consider that other nations, and even regions in the UK, have more coverage in the national press compared to Wales. Also, while some are quick to criticise the SNP’s policies on education, the fact that Wales achieved the lowest PISA test scores in the UK was even more breath-taking. Wales’ science performance was roughly the same as that of Spain’s Balearic Islands, while its performance in reading is similar to that of pupils in Dubai or Buenos Aires in Argentina. In maths, Welsh pupils’ score is closest to that of their Lithuanian contemporaries. Considering that education is devolved to the Welsh government, if this news was broadcast nationwide it could have sparked debate over whether devolution was working not only in Wales, but in other nations too.

Consequently, Welsh news is not only interesting, but has to the UK as a whole. So, it wouldn’t be that Welsh news should be broadcast purely for the satisfaction of Welsh listeners, but it could also diversify the news that is received by people across the UK, whilst also being relevant to their lives. In Oxford, perhaps the biggest bubble of anglicised and traditional Westminster-style news, it is hard to maintain links with Wales. While much news and current affairs is moving online, traditional news broadcasts are essential to inform millions of people, particularly the older generations. Wales must be included by the BBC, ITV, Channel 4 and other media outlets, as Welsh news is interesting, relevant and important to national debates in politics, economics and sport.

Couch to 5K

Emma Leech
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Couch to 5K

It’s 7am. Light is just beginning to make its way across the quad, gradually erasing last night’s frost. The air is still bitingly cold. Every breath feels like hard work. A few dog walkers and early risers shuffle around, trying to convince themselves that the freezing of their limbs is rejuvenating, not soul-destroying.

I stand amongst it all, in trainers that are more accustomed to Park End and sportswear that a family member bought me in a flash of optimism that I may one day actually exercise. Apparently, that day has come. Suddenly, an obnoxiously chirpy American voice rings out, causing birds to scatter and the pre-dawn zombies to glance at me confusedly: “Welcome to Couch to 5K, begin your warm-up now.”

Yes I know. Both my reliance on technology and my lack of self-motivation have got me to the point where I have to use a recorded voice that provides step-by-step guidance just in order to off set that inevitable heart disease for a little longer.

When you first start using it, the app proudly proclaims to the entire park that you are to run for a short thirty seconds and then walk for a few minutes, trying to pretend to the other runners that half a minute of light jogging is not making you want to throw up your own lungs.

With each week, in a convenient eight week course, the app scales up the running and down the walking until, apparently, you are that Lycra-clad fitness fanatic that skips happily into breakfast after her early morning 5K for a banana and a subtle brag to her friends. In all fairness, the app does work. Without it, I would wander aimlessly for half an hour then return to college and lie about having beaten my non-existent personal best.

I am still in the beginning stages, though, and I will admit it is tough. There are probably rowers reading this, laughing at me so much that they almost choke on their dry pasta, but as someone to whom sports and exercise come less naturally than reading and gin, this has been a profound learning process. I spend the first ten minutes of three mornings a week scorning myself under my breath as I drag my already aching limbs out of bed. But, in all honesty, I have noticed a difference.

Getting up early actually allows you to be fully awake in your 9ams, not falling asleep on the spacebar while taking notes. And even if, three weeks in, the physical effects are slow to show, you still have a smugness that glows from every pore and feels pretty great. I mean, if you don’t tell anyone, or at least put a timestamped sunrise picture on your Snapchat story, what is the point of going running at all?

Life Divided: Kebab vans

Matthew Palmer and Stephen Hawes
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Life Divided: Kebab vans

For (Matthew Palmer):

We’ve all been there. You stumble and crawl out of PT or Cellar, or whichever wretched hive of scum and villainy that has occupied your attention for the last few hours.

It’s not been a great night. The music was crap, you overdid yourself at pre-drinks, and you missed that blissful happy-drunk phase, only to plummet straight into the depths of being completely plastered.

Now, as you dumbly reacquaint yourself with the bitterly numbing Oxford night air, you realise that you’ve lost your friends. But, even in your drunken stupor, you know that only a fool would panic. You know there’s only one place that they possibly could be. Hassan’s.

You totter past the crying students, drunken louts and other club detritus, up the hill towards the promised land. You resolutely trudge forward, imbued by the new sense of purpose in your life. You see it ahead of you, the warm glow spilling out onto the Broad Street pavement. A new sense of hope fills you. The queue is mercifully short, and you fall in to join it.

All thoughts of friends have gone for a minute; they are not here yet, and you have time— and a stomach—to fill. Your befuddled mind is momentarily intimidated by the sheer choice on offer, and you haven’t quite made a decision before it’s your turn.

“Next please!” You panic! What do you say to this noble provider of quality fare?

“Cheesssy Chipss,” you slur, and quick as lightning you have a steaming pile of flaccid chips in your hand, smothered with greasy plastic goodness. The heat of the chips warms your heart and spreads throughout the body. You have a surge of energy, the vigour required to get you home. As you turn around, you see your mates just approaching, and you break into a smile. Nobody can resist coming together to worship at the greasy altar.

Hassan has done it again.

Against (Stephen Hawes):

There’s something quite shameful about a late-night kebab.

Drunken crowds stopping off at Hussein’s on the way back from Bridge may not notice it, but try standing in the undulating queue for ‘chicken meat’ and chips in the freezing cold, sober, and one will definitely notice something awry. Sordid almost.

The kebab van is a staple for a night out in Oxford. I have read that there are more kebab vans per square kilometre in this city than any other in the country. Even if this isn’t quite the unadulterated truth, there’s a bloody lot of them. The kebab, or whatever that thing is that you always find yourself choosing, is the rather predictable end to an evening that you promised yourself would be something amazingly extra-ordinary only a few hours before.

The kebab van itself, between the hours of about half-one and half-three, seems to attract us students at our very worst: intoxicated, hungry, and jaded. There have been several occasions where I have witnessed scuffles and arguments outside such establishments, and several more where I have found myself talking to people trying over-zealously to insist that they are not half as inebriated as their off -rhythm swaying would suggest.

It seems that the majority of people ordering at an Oxford kebab van are already way past their bedtime.

Of course, the kebab van, the dubious meatproducts, and the punters more suited to eating out of a trough, are not likely to go away. The whole phenomenon is far too lucrative and far too popular.

As a fresher, there seemed to be weeks where I survived purely off of large doners and late-night burgers myself. But the feeling of walking away from the warmth of the serving hatch, clutching the regulatory polystyrene box, is never a satisfactory one.

Perhaps, by then, I have sobered up just a bit too much. Or, perhaps, I should have simply gone home to eat burnt toast in peace.

My secondary school was a vibrant patchwork of people and cultures

Heather Cant
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My secondary school was a vibrant patchwork of people and cultures

In your last years of pre-pubescence, when you’re riding scooters and eating 5p Freddos, you are blissfully oblivious to the school dilemma that slowly but surely takes over your parents’ lives.

For some families, it’s out of their hands, with only one school option available, or you lack the time or money to fret over league tables and parenting forums. Alternatively, you’re already settled into a prep school feeding into a private school with the end goal of a successful Oxbridge application clearly in sight.

Other parents, particularly those in urban, densely populated areas, with many schools within a single catchment area, can feel like their child’s future is hanging precariously at a cliff edge, and their decision will either haul them to success or let them plummet to their doom.

In Haringey, the school experience can vary massively. It is the most divided borough in London: four of its 19 wards are in the wealthiest ten per cent in London, yet many of its wards are in the poorest 20 per cent nationally. As you’d expect, the wealthier wards boast high-achieving schools, and the poorer parts, such as Tottenham, have schools that anxious parents go to great measures to avoid.

Take my own secondary school. Situated in the UK’s most diverse postcode, it was a vibrant patchwork of people and cultures stitched messily together. Students spoke a language of languages, importing foreign words from a multitude of places within a single sentence: “Drop me some money for a lahmacun, wallahi I’ll pay you back.” It was a school of acceptance, everyone belonging in not belonging, everyone indiscriminately and aff ectionately insulted for their most personal insecurities, with sticky-floored corridors and graffitied walls, and with such a high immigration rate that I was the only native English person in most of my classes.

It was also a school that families actively, and expensively, avoided. Despite its ‘Good’ Ofsted rating, the below-average A*-C GCSE rate, the rundown surroundings, and the rumours of a knife-carrying, hooligan-like student body gave parents the impression that it would only churn out aimless sixteen-year-olds with a brick-wall future and a heroin addiction.

On my road alone, despite plenty of local options, families rented their homes out for a year and moved into the wealthier areas of the borough to be in the catchment area of the ‘good’ schools. For the parents unable to escape being allocated the Tottenham school place, ridiculous appeals were made, such overly loud school, bells and one prospective student deeming himself “too clever” for a school of “chavs”.

Fair enough. Parents have the right to decide where and how their children are educated. However, it is important to recognise that, even within the state system, opportunity is bought. And that for many families, there is not a choice. Students from lower income backgrounds of equal or better ability than their wealthier peers are denied the same opportunities because of obstacles that result from low-income, deprived areas.

The impact is telling when comparing exam results for the two schools, both state comprehensives, both in the same borough: 86 percent of students achieving 5 A*-C grades, including English and Maths, in the ‘good’ school, compared with a mere 50 per cent in the Tottenham school. Many of these obstacles, such as low aspiration and behavioural issues, would be reduced if the school system was less divisive and there was a greater spread of financial backgrounds in the student body.

This is not an issue unique to Haringey, nor is there an easy solution. Despite this, research from the OECD has confirmed that increasing the social mix of students in schools serves to improve the performance of disadvantaged pupils without any negative effect on the school’s overall performance.

It is easy to assume that exam results and league tables reflect quality of education. However, despite a seemingly poor pass rate of only 50 percent, the fact that my school had many students starting off their secondary education with only a handful of English words who then passed their Language and Literature GCSEs, is testament to a dedicated teaching body and an ethos of encouragement amongst students facing similar obstacles.

The painfully slow reading of Of Mice and Men was compensated for by a keenness to learn that showed itself, rather than in endless A grades stamped on coursework essays, in the playground discussions about whether Curly was a “wasteman” or the mimicking “brap” sounds of George’s gun. Only as a result of this environment could I have found myself surrounded by friends discussing the gendered nature of Islamophobia, drinking Somali tea, and listening to Skepta.

I sing praise for my own school. It was a challenging, vibrant environment in which the interests, such as migration, nationality and language, that led me to my degree choice were formed. It was an experience that I wouldn’t trade for the easier ride of a ‘good’ school. Yet it was full of engaged, intelligent students with unrealised potential who, in a school system more diverse in terms of financial background, may have had the chance to flourish that they deserved.

Letter from abroad: Jordan

Life team
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Letter from abroad: Jordan

Before venturing to Jordan, the danger of sexual harassment was at the forefront of my mind. Everyone was made well aware of the likelihood of women experiencing unwanted attention. However, since arriving here, I noted that sexual harassment towards men also exists, and too is hugely damaging to its victims. Two men agreed to share their experiences:

Harry, 19: “I was walking away from Rainbow Street [a local LGBTQ+ organisation] with the intention of going to the café where I work, when a man I didn’t know began to walk right next to me. Initially, I didn’t think much of it because here it’s quite common to talk to strangers. Ten minutes passed and he began to talk to me. I replied by saying ‘hello’ and asked him how he was. He responded by describing himself as being 32 years of age, tired and not as young as he had been. He explained this sentiment by stating that if he touched my dick it would grow hard in a couple of minutes, whereas if I touched his it might take half an hour. Initially, I didn’t know what to say. Then he leaned over, grabbed my groin saying, ‘you know dick, yes?’ I immediately told him to stop and said that I had a girlfriend, but he continued his pursuit. He said that he would show me his ‘ass’ and that I should go down an alley with him so he could ‘suck my dick’ because he was sure I would like it.”

Thomas, 18: “I was in a taxi, something I do everyday and almost always without any trouble, when the driver began talking to me about the cold weather and how important it was to wear layers. He took my hand and placed it on his thigh so I could feel that he was wearing them. I didn’t really pay any attention the first time, but he kept doing it and then leaned over to touch me, telling me I needed to start wearing layers too. This made me feel uncomfortable, but I felt like I couldn’t do anything, I just tried to keep my hands out of his reach. He then took my hand again, this time placing it closer to his penis and I felt it harden. After I pulled my hand away he reached for my groin. But, seeing as we were near my house I just moved away and got out of the taxi as soon as I could. Once I left the taxi all I could think about was getting home and washing my hands.”

I spoke to Kevin Steen about the matter. Kevin lived in Jordan for several months in 2012 and is the founder of the Jordanian-American non- profit organisation, Rainbow Street.

“I imagine that the older men are looking for sex, though not necessarily exclusively with a man,” he said. “In Jordan, it can prove much more difficult to have a discreet affair with a woman than with a man. Few people would expect two men to be in a sexual relationship. So if an older gentleman is looking for sex, he may focus on young men because that’s who he’s attracted to, or just because it’s a more likely scenario. My guess is that it happens more often to people visiting Jordan because there’s a slimmer chance of those people having some personal or familial connection with the older man’s family. Family ties are strong in Jordan, and ‘family’ can refer to a large clan with a presence in multiple cities. This makes a place like Amman feel like quite a small town, where everyone knows each other, despite it having a population of about two million. The public street has a degree of anonymity that probably emboldens men who are looking for sex from other men.

I hope that incidents would be reported and that action be taken to punish the perpetrator. But I doubt very much that either of those things would take place. Sexual assault is a shameful topic, and for a man to profess that he’s a victim could expose him to a large degree of unwanted attention and possible harassment. The onus falls on Jordanian men to educate each other on what is respectful behaviour to women and other men. If sex outside of marriage and same-sex relations were not both so deeply stigmatised in Jordanian society, solicitations for sex would likely not come in the form of harassment quite so often. These are not issues that are easy to undo.”

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