Michaelmas 2014
Issue 3
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Photos by Lauren Engels
Interview: Jackie Ashley page 4 Opinion: Why I couldn’t care less about feminism
page 5 Reviews Master of None Waiting for God
page 7 Poetry : El Alamein: A Sonnet
page 7 Fiction: Broken
Students Respond to Refugee Crisis Sophie Lydon Cambridge University students are regularly travelling to the renowned Calais refugee camp to help the thousands of migrants living there. Cavendish Chronicle reporter Sophie Lyddon interviewed one of the volunteer students to discover how the experience had impacted her. Lauren Engels, who started a master’s in politics and international relations in October, said: “I really do not know what I was expecting before I visited Calais. I knew the camp had 6,000 people but I do not think I could have ever been prepared for what I experienced.” “It was very disheartening seeing people in these conditions who previously had lives very similar to mine: many of the refugees had obtained master’s and PhDs in their home countries.”
“On my first visit, we assisted in a myriad of projects from sorting donations to distributing aid to cleaning in the kitchen to building shelters. I was involved with distribution runs which consisted of driving large vans filled with donations to the camps and handing them out to refugees. That weekend our group was involved in four distributions, providing toiletries, socks, hats, jackets, firewood, food, t-shirts, and coats. On one afternoon we gave away approximately 150 coats.” Lauren admitted that, as a student, she couldn’t help but learn as she worked: “I’m passionate about ensuring the rights of refugees but I got involved to not only assist in improving the living conditions in the refugee camps but also to learn more about the structural system. “The camp itself is divided by countries. I met refugees
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from numerous places including Syria, South Sudan, Eritrea, Botswana, Iraq and Iran. While some had only arrived that day, others had been there for many years. I was surprised by the fact that, although a fence surrounds the camp, many of the refugees walk in and out.”
“Lauren has twice visited the camp, also known as “The Jungle”, with Cambridge University Calais Refugee Action Group (CUCRAG) which organises student volunteer trips there every other weekend. Many of the refugees had obtained master’s and PhDs in their own countries.” CUCRAG is a University of Cambridge society started by several students, including Peter Martin and Tom Tyson, but now has a commit-
tee of approximately twelve involved in a range of disciplines from classics to medicine to international relations. It works with registered charity CalAid which collects, stores and distributes donations for those in the camp. The charity states that no one should be without access to basic human rights like shelter and warmth and through the collection of donations they aim to improve refugees’ living conditions at the Calais camp. Lauren explained that through CUCRAG there is a multitude of ways students can help out at the camp. She said: “CalAid significantly lacks workers to sort and organise the donations it receives every day. “The size of The Jungle, the vulnerability of the large and growing population there and the rapidly declining temperature mean that volunteers are continued on page 2
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needed now more than ever.” Lauren stressed that CalAid relies on volunteers and that while donations are very much welcomed, urgent help is needed with distributing these and helping out with other issues at the camp. According to the United Nations’ High Commissioner for Refugees’ representative in France, Philippe Leclerc, most of those in the camp are escaping violence in countries such as Syria, Eritrea, and Afghanistan. With winter rapidly approaching and the flow of migrants to Europe remaining steady, European Union leaders continue to meet to reach a consensus as to the line the union, and each of its member states, should be taking to best deal with the current crisis. In the meantime, one of the places where the issues of the crisis are most apparent is at “The Jungle” which was opened in 1999 but whose population has grown enormously over the past few months. The situation at the camp remains as pressing as ever and is not an issue likely to lessen any time soon. As Lauren concluded : “My
Opinion
Dissident Pawns Mara Gonzalez Souto Look up, past your feet. Feel the hot chequered board beneath your soles. Pawns in a game. What are we but pawns in a game? The first of a series, this column strives to bring agency back to ourselves: students, professors, daughters and sons, sisters and brothers, individuals. How should we play the complex game of life – laden with systems, institutions, hierarchies, orders and norms? These studies will seek to empower us: to regain our consciousness, to sketch out competing realities, facts, news and developments, and to look beyond our feet, past the impending assignment, the chocolate craving, the cute classmate. What is at stake for ourselves, our families, our communities? What is our place in the world? Key to regaining consciousness is inquiring, listening and grasping the conditions of our world. Let’s fix our eyes on South America. The last months have highlighted the abduction of 43 Mexican students, the assassination of an Argentinian prosecutor, the ambitions of Bolivia to become the continent’s powerhouse, the ongoing peace negotiations between Colombia’s government and the Revolutionary Armed Forces of Colombia (FARC), and the possible impeachment of Brazil’s President Dilma Rousseff. Amid this turmoil, we find Venezuela. Following the death of Hugo Chávez in 2013, President Nicolás Maduro has endeavored to mimic his predecessor, staying close to his ideology and dictatorial policies. Meanwhile, the country has slipped from a grave economic and political landslide toward a looming default. Venezuelan oil, the driver of the economy, costs a mere 10 cents per gallon. Economists predict the soaring inflation and steep devaluation of the Bolivar will cause an economic contraction of 7% in 2015, feeding public discontent and protests. Products remain in short supply, ranging from basics like milk and flour to medical supplies, toilet paper and diapers. Citizens have been forced to leave their homes at the break of dawn and spend hours outside shops, only to return home empty handed. Others have turned to looting.
Coupled with marginal production and supply is dire
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political suppression. Mass protests in 2014 were confronted by the police, resulting in the deaths of protesters and incarceration of hundreds of students and opposition leaders like Leopoldo López and Antonio Ledezma. In response, Maduro has argued the protests constitute a conspiracy backed by the United States to oust his government. With parliamentary elections fast approaching in December of 2015, the government is endeavoring to sabotage the process through phantom party ballots and dominion over the media. Oversight of the elections by the Organization of American States (OAS) has been rejected. What should we expect in the coming years?
“What is at stake for ourselves, our families, our communities? What is our place in the world?” At the surface level, the crisis in Venezuela is an epitome of oppression, akin to unrest in Syria, Sudan and Yemen. Many are quick to argue that governments are to blame, pushing powers and policies in their favor at the cost of the wider citizenry. But let us dissect this premise: who is the state? Maduro in Venezuela, al-Assad in Syria, al-Bashir in Sudan? Are they to blame alone? If not, who are those behind them and how do they rationalize their contribution to oppressive regimes and - perhaps - their active role in mass slaughters and human rights violations? We often find close advisers, party affiliates, and even family members. Likewise, we may brand as obedient pawns the elites and state bureaucrats. Yet, as the owner of one of the 4,700 companies forced to shut down in Venezuela, what would you do in a state of crisis? Negotiate with the government to keep your employees and income or use the savings to flee? As a student, would you protest despite your classmates’ arrests? Or as a mother with a hungry family, would you loot a shop? How would you handle your emotions? What channels and mechanisms of response would you exercise? What would be the moral implications of your actions? As we spend our days and weeks enthralled in lectures, immersed in data sets and making small talk with friends, we often lose sight of competing, tragic realities outside our plane of vision. It is vital that we stay conscious of the systems under which we operate, the decisions we and others make, and the motivations
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American Literary Adventures Charlotte Fiehn thorne and Thoreau had in common – all of them living there at one time or another. (As my history professor pointed out, you can also ‘breathe the air of freedom’ around about this spot, because the first shots of the Revolutionary War were fired here on what Google Maps marks as ‘Concord Battleground’). Sadly, we didn’t make it inside the Old Manse on this trip because it was closed and Concord just has too many other things for you to do. We did, however, make one other literary trip before we headed back to Pennsylvania, and this one was a genuine detour.
Emily Dickinson’s House in Amherst, MA
Last year, in a furious effort to prepare for Cambridge, I dragged my long-suffering children to six conferences up and down the United States. The last of these conferences was at Harvard, in what I will hereafter refer to as “the other Cambridge,” nestled on the Charles River and perhaps sometimes still pretending to be a Boston suburb. Wondering about Harvard Square, I realized that this particular adventure might well be the last one we had in the US for some time. Our move to Cambridge, UK, was fast approaching and bringing with it a dire shortage of spare change, shall we say. What, I thought, would be a good way to bid a proper farewell to Boston and get ready for our leap across the pond? Well, before long, I had an idea, and it involved a short drive out of the city to the town of Concord, one-time home to some of America’s most outstanding literary figures – everyone from Nathaniel Hawthorne to Ralph Waldo Emerson, Louisa May Alcott to Margaret Fuller. For literary nuts and history buffs, Concord is a true gem, actually. It probably takes a good few days to even scratch the surface
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of what this place has to offer. There’s Louisa May Alcott’s house, beautifully preserved, with the little schoolhouse next door that Amos Bronson Alcott built on the property. Most people know the story of Little Women, and a great many details about the house and the lives of its residents found their way into that story and the sequels. But also literal traces also remain of Louisa May’s sisters and their talents. Her younger sister, May (Amy, in the books), for instance, was a very talented artist and onetime instructor to the man who went on to design the Lincoln Memorial down in Washington. Her sketches are all over the walls in her bedroom and in one of the downstairs rooms that became her studio.
Adding a couple of hours to our trip, we had a stopover in Amherst, home to the poet, Emily Dickinson, touring the main house and the neighbouring Everglades, once the social centre of the town. Although neither house is in repair (restoration is on-going), I could imagine Emily at her desk, pencil in hand, gazing out of the window on what would have been a luscious landscape. My kids were definitely ready to go home after this, but it was a perfect end to our literary send-off and I was all the more eager to throw myself into studying at Lucy, reflecting back on the experience! ■
Next door to the Alcotts’ home is one of several houses, too, where Nathaniel Hawthorne lived (fairly compelling evidence identifies Hawthorne’s son as Teddy in Little Women), but Hawthorne wasn’t the only one to frequent the Alcott home. A few minutes away lived Emerson and his family (sometimes Thoreau as well). Off in the other direction, we found the Old Manse, which is a home that Haw-
The Old Manse in Concord, MA, one-time home to Nathaniel Hawthorne and Ralph Waldo Emerson
Michelmas 2015
Issue 3
Riding on an Opportunity E Moore I am sure that by now, you have become used to the endless influx of emails that enter your inbox every day. In February, I received a message looking for keen riders for the second ever Varsity Horserace, in October. Each team comprised five riders who would train the whole summer. I am happy I replied, because I never imagined where it would lead me. I filled my application during a study break and sent it off. A few weeks later: an invite to a preliminary training session. Initially there were 15 of us training regularly on the mechanical horses, the ‘equicizers’. We learnt how to get the correct riding position, the “martini-glass”, before focusing on stamina-building, whilst mastering how to push the horse in the final 2 furlongs of the race. Alongside training we were treated to a few free days at the races which kept us motivated to keep putting in the hard work.
“You never know where a Cambridge opportunity will take you.” Around April, our coach gave us real-life racehorses. My first thoughts were panicky ones. My first ride up Newmar-
ket heath was simultaneously a blur and an adrenaline buzz. From that moment, I knew I was hooked. The rest of summer I was riding out more often and training on the British Racing School equicizers. The bonds I formed with horses and human alike helped to improve my confidence. The final assessment made me part of the Cambridge team. The morning of the race day went quickly as we walked the course and weighed in. I was ready to go up against Oxford. My horse, owned and trained by John Berry, was called Platinum Proof “tommy”. The first 3 furlongs were a blur and by the halfway point, I told myself to focus. My horse and I won the 6th place. I felt proud to have represented our college. We of course celebrated our victory and danced the night away. You never know where a Cambridge opportunity will take you. I realized one of my dreams: to ride down one of the most famous tracks in the world. Lucy girls can also achieve greatness #Thisgirlcan! I want to thank everyone that supported me throughout the process and encourage those that might be interested in competimg next year to contact me. ■
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Interview
Dr Ashley, we Presume? Lucy Cavendish College’s new president recently submitted to the probing interview style of Chronicle reporters Adela Ryle and Tanya Brown... Jackie Ashley wishes she had studied medicine. Only as of a few weeks ago, admittedly, but she is clearly very keen on the idea. “That’s what I’d really like to do here, but they’ve told me I’m too old!” She laughs quite freely at herself and suggests a ‘cutting-up-dead-bodies-med-soc’ would be her preferred society. The joke leads to a serious reflection though, as she looks back on her career so far. “I think that actually, for too many years, I didn’t look outside the job I love. I’ve only recently begun getting an interest in science and technology and medicine and all of those things that for years I thought were not for me. I wish I had had more of an open mind.” Despite clearly having loved her work, the sense that there are things she missed out on seems to bother her. “The older we get in a way the more we have to learn” she says before mentioning in a slightly rueful tone that she is planning to take a course in computing. This desire to learn and develop regardless of age is clearly what resonates with her about Lucy Cavendish: “I think as we age as a society and as society is changing so quickly, the idea that further education, higher education is just for the 18-21 year old cohort is really for the birds.” Warming to her theme, Jackie explains what, to her, makes Lucy special: “What I like about it is the fact that it does give opportunities to people who have not had the traditional education, that have not had every advantage and everything has not gone right for them. It’s giving a chance to people who, for whatever reason, whether it was that they got in with the wrong crowd, they were ill, they had family misfortune, they made a wrong career choice, whatever, for whatever reason they didn’t go the traditional route to university. And I love the fact that we’ve got people here who’ve done all sorts of different jobs. A policewoman, a waitress, a car fitter, all sorts of people who can come here and prove that they can get a degree and do just as well as the people who got straight As at A level. That’s really, really important.” (cont’d) Jackie’s own career, however, has been rela-
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tively straightforward. Her interest in political journalism was a natural progression from teenage years spent helping her father, Lord Ashley, previously the first deaf MP. His disability required him to lip-read and so Jackie was introduced to the most intimate details of politics, acting as her father’s aide on the telephone. Going on to study at Oxford, where she became engaged with student journalism (perhaps at the expense of her degree), Jackie quickly rose to prominence within the BBC. Subsequently working in both print and broadcast, her crowning achievement – so far – was breaking the news of Margaret Thatcher’s resignation.
“it’s all right at sixty!” “At 8:30 I got a call from someone I knew in the city and they said ‘is it true she’s gone?’ and I thought ‘ah, that’s interesting...’ so I phoned Downing Street and said ‘I hear she’s gone’ and they couldn’t lie. So I rushed out to the green, got the cameras there and broke the news. That was exciting!”
When we ask what she regards to be the essential traits for success, Jackie suggests resilience is crucial. Admitting that she lacked confidence at university, she now stresses the importance of believing in yourself. Her message to students at Lucy reflects this: “Never think you can’t do it, always give it a go. You will be surprised, you will succeed.
And don’t give up or be put off too easily.” Whilst it can be hard to reconcile everyday life with such optimism, she later offers a witty but perhaps more realistic summary: “By the time you hit sixty you don’t care. Hang on in there, it’s all alright at sixty!” ■
Opinion
Why I couldn’t care less about feminism Ateka Ismail Tarajia Upon starting my education at Cambridge, at Lucy Cavendish College, I am certain that not a day has gone by without one of my peers making a comment about gender inequality. Indeed, some version of feminism - or multiple forms - are constantly in circulation here. We recently held a ‘Where are the Women?’ conference, organized by our new President Jackie Ashley. I didn’t wish to attend. To be honest I don’t think I could care less about where the women are; I care even less about feminism. I am a brown-skinned, British Muslim, with Indian parents – being a woman is the least of my worries. Please, don’t misunderstand me, I am grateful for all the opportunities that I have been given by those who fought for the rights that I enjoy today. However, I have experienced greater discrimination because of my faith, and the colour of my skin, than I have because I am a woman. Funnily enough, most of it has come from my surroundings at Cambridge in the last two years of being a student here, where I routinely have to endure people mocking my beliefs, despite never imposing these on anyone. How can a place that is so intellectually enlightened simultaneously www.facebook.com/thecavendishchronicle
be so bigoted? Earlier this year, Nobel prize winning professor, Tim Hunt, was hounded down for making a sexist comment about women not being allowed into a lab because they get emotional: uproar ensued. However, people can say whatever they like about minorities, and their beliefs, and this is lauded as ‘freedom of speech’. In my second year at Lucy Cavendish it dawned on me that although the Student Union had a Women’s Officer, an LGBT Officer, an International Students’ Officer, we did not have an officer for ethnic minorities – I was told by one of the members of the SU that it was because there was no need for one; a statement that speaks volumes about the inequalities in our education system, but I’ll leave that topic for another day. I was eleven years old when 9/11 happened. Since then, it’s as if I’ve slowly been made an enemy in the country in which I was born. I’ve seen a gradual conversion of those around me making sweeping statements about minorities and, in particular, Muslims. Recently, our President Jackie Ashley sent out an email of condolence after the Paris attacks – the sentiment of which I appreciated, and agreed wholeheartedly with. However, a phrase Ms Ash-
ley used in her email prevented me from sleeping that night: ‘this atrocity is an attack on all of our values.’ Values. A word I have not heard the end of – liberally used by politicians and the media to create some kind of monster “other” out of minorities, in order to marginalize them further. Apparently, the reason why a (small) number of young British Muslims have been lured into participating in despicable acts of terror is because they have not been brought up with the correct values, let me rephrase: ”British Values.” This phrase angers me to my very core because, let me tell you something, I was not taught these elusive British Values in school, or by my parents, and I did not turn out to be a savage terrorist. Instead, my parents taught me to be kind, a value that is common to all of humanity. A terrorist is not he who does not hold in his heart “British Values,” a terrorist is he who is void of values common to all humanity. One of our beloved porters recently printed a passage from the Bible for me and told me that it speaks to people of all faiths and, indeed, people of no religious faith: ‘...If I have all faith, so as to move mountains, but have not love, I am nothing.’ I could not agree more.
Michelmas 2015
Summertime in Cambridge Tianqi Dong If I could stop time, I’d stay in Cambridge summer 2015. The wind here in summer is lazy and warm. The clouds are so changeable that you will never tire of watching them. Shortly after an afternoon rain shower, I’d wander down the straight, tree-lined road in front of the Mathematics department. I close my eyes and let the memory resurface - this summer is etched sharply in my mind. I’ve created a personal tradition from another favourite summer leisure activity: visiting lavender farms. I’ve visited Somerset,
Issue 3 Jersey and this last time Hitchin (just one hour away from Cambridge), to rejoice in lavender’s charming purple colour and collect some sprigs to perfume my clothes in the wardrobe. In addition to its distinctive smell, lavender is always a joy to see, but this year, we had a special surprise from nature. After an 11-year wait, the Titan Arum in their botanical garden was blooming at last. Together with my best friends, we went to admire its fabulous beauty and most exotic smell. When standing in front of this flower, I wondered how many 11-year cycles we’ll each have in our lifetime. Each flower has its own beauty. Lavender is the kind of flower you can cherish every year, but for the Titan Arum, you have to wait 11 years. Precisely because of this flower’s intrinsic patience, its blooming attracts visitors from all over the world. Tourists with
Page 6 cameras flocked to capture this impressive phenomenon. When I shared my summer experience in Cambridge with my Mum, she told me she had never seen me this happy before. She said:
“All the efforts you have put into this journey will eventually join together to make your own existence meaningful, just like flowers, whether lavender or Titan Arum”. I will always cherish this splendid summer in my mind, for the cheerful moments of friendship, for the 11-year flower and for a happier me. ■
Letter A fresher’s thoughts… Preparing to study at Cambridge is really exciting. Knowing that it is a great chance and an experience totally different from anything you have done so far, it is more than a challenge. When I arrived at Lucy Cavendish College in October to start my Master in Law, I realized that sometimes reality can be much better than imagination in a really surprising way. The nature, the buildings, the large and warm library make our College the perfect place to study and live. All these, though, should be attributed to the people of the College who give it life. From the very first moment the friendly atmosphere, the warm welcome, and the willingness of every person I met made me feel more than at home. Their support definitely encourages every new member to become an active and committed part of its community. I would like through this Cavendish Chronicle column to express as a fresher a sincere and deep “thank you” to Lucy Cavendish College. The last phrase in the Tutors’ welcome speech on the first day was “remember that it is your College”. I would like to end this brief open letter by saying that I feel that it is more than our college, it is our “family”. ■
The Titan Arum in bloom
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Reviews Waiting for God: Samuel Beckett in dialogue with King’s College Chapel Ellen Gage
The union of the magnificent late Gothic chapel and the modernist creator of Krapp, Clov and Estragon may seem an unlikely marriage, but this multi-media event (conceived by King’s Fellows Peter de Bolla and Christopher Prendergast) sought to highlight the resonances between the architecture of the chapel and the spectral atmospheres of Beckett’s work. Entering the dark chapel by torchlight, the event began as the clock struck eight with a recording of Beckett’s poems ‘What would I do?’, ‘Echo’s Bones’ and ‘Malacoda’, read by Irish actor Jack MacGowran. The evening featured visual and audio extracts projected around the antechapel, as well as photographs from Royal Court productions, excerpts of classical music and audio from Beckett’s poems, prose and drama. The images were the evening’s strength: John Haynes’ black-and-white photographs of Beckett were projected on to the walls and ceiling to produce a stunning chiaroscuro in which even the hairs on the writer’s nose were tangible. The audience was introduced to the man himself in extraordinary detail: in an effective marriage of materials, the layering of images over the columns of the antechapel brought each wrinkle and groove out in a bas-relief to create an incredibly textured portrait. The sound was treated and layered to produce an atmospheric effect, but this resulted in a blurred background of white noise. Considering that words were Beckett’s tool, it was a shame not to be able to distinguish and appreciate them. Although the quality of the sound detracted from the event, the reflective silences proved to be more powerful. While it is evident much thought was put into the design of the installation - a use of technology which must be applauded the lack of coherence resulted in disrupted communication. It resulted in a dialogue that the audience could not partake in, reflected in the comments of one bemused fellow audience member to his friend on the way out: “Can you just explain to me what I’ve spent the last fifty minutes doing?” Though the fragmentary nature of www.facebook.com/thecavendishchronicle
the event may not have clearly communicated a coherent answer to his question, we witnessed the unfolding of a conversation between different art forms from different periods. It is important to remember that to fully appreciate works of art, they should not be considered as lone entities: Beckett himself was in cross-period and cross-cultural dialogue with such varied figures as Dante, Descartes and Democritus.
usually about witnessing white actors playing characters you have seen many, many times before. Ansari touches on being a child of immigrants, the anxieties of if and when to have kids, and the utter horror of texting someone who doesn’t text you back. All of the ten episodes are available on Netflix, and I fear I might have to start my hunt for a new favourite show before the weekend is over. ■
And so the conversation continues. ■
Master of None Elise Soreide
There are no other feelings like the feeling of having watched the last episode of the last season of your new favourite show; I think emptiness is the right word. It feels similar to having been engulfed in an enormous Victorian novel, and suddenly realizing that you do not inhabit the same world as the characters when there are no more pages to read. I have for a long while been drifting from show to show, unable to find anything that could do the difficult trick of being entertaining, smart, well made and relaxing at the same time, a well deserved 30 minutes off after a day of intense studying. But luckily, I stumbled upon Master of None, an American comedy series by Anziz Ansari and Alan Yang, and my life as a tv-viewer was again back on track. The series, which premiered in November on Netflix stars Aziz Ansari, who plays a 30-year old actor living in New York City. Ansari came first to my attention playing Tom in Parks and Recreation, and since then I have become familiar with his stand up, where the role of technology in modern day interactions between people is one of his recurring themes. He also co-wrote the book Modern Romance: An investigation with sociologist Eric Klinenberg, published this year. Here he puts his experiences and concerns of how dating, romance and love are being renegotiated through technological devices into theory. His comic, insightful take on the subject also finds its way into Master of None. Everything about this show is fresh, funny and sharp. The cast is diverse, and as Dev, Ansari is accompanied by three highly individual friends, reminding you at the same time of how watching film and TV is
image by Fewskulchor
Poetry El Alamein: A Sonnet Sally Wallace-Jones, 2009 Around us tainted desert stretches far Seeded with the solemn ranks of gravestones A barren furrowed land of livid scar Beneath the slabs a harvest of bleached bones The distant column flourishes a cross, sprung into life from blood and foreign sand Such lives, a harvest of so deep a loss Where wounds of battle harrow deep the land. Still in this barren garden built of hate Where life’s end meets with dark death’s kiss A shred of scarlet glows, defying fate. A petalled wisp of hope dips down to bless. We lie in barren, desiccated earth Our whispered names in desert wind’s re-
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50 Facts, 50 Years
Broken Deana Gershuny ‘I’ll tell you next time’, he said. The well-worn dark creases of his face deepened around a cheeky grin and laughing eyes as he jogged away up the stairs of the train station. A few moments earlier he had lifted the left leg of his workman’s trousers to reveal a calf full of scars resembling the dents of a car. The leg had saved his life, he said. It took all the weight of his body when he fell from a building three stories high. The rest of him was unharmed but the leg, badly broken, was operated on, externally fixated and immobilized. External fixation involves a metal framework on the outside, holding metal rods which pierce the skin and flesh, into the bone. Every so often the frame is adjusted, ‘that’s the part that really hurt’, he said. It took two years to walk again. Twenty-four months. One hundred and four weeks. ‘How?’, I asked. Deepening creases, cheeky grin and laughing, knowing eyes. Imagination will suggest possibilities. Unless there is a ‘next time’ that I meet this stranger. A few days earlier it was a lady in a busy coffee shop. A middle aged, nicely dressed Indian lady with pearl earrings and blow-dried hair. She glided towards me to take my table. ‘Guess what happened to me’, she said as a cheeky, knowing smile lifted her face, ‘I bet mine’s more exciting than yours’. I was intrigued. My story for the day. ‘What?’, I asked. ‘Quad biking accident’, she said with a grin. It was a grin that belied a kind of pride and satisfaction that anticipated my surprise in hearing this fact; a fact that revealed a daring side of herself that was somewhat at odds with her external appearance. ‘Three years ago…hit something and came off…fractured spine and neck… took a year to heal’, she paused. A sombre expression crossed her face and a seriousness flickered in her eyes, ‘I have to be careful now, I can’t turn around too quickly, can’t play golf anymore…I’m lucky I’m not paralysed, it was close.’. Before that, an elderly lady on the train. ‘Just be careful where you put those crutches’, she said politely, hands darting to shield her knee as I haphazardly shuffled myself across to sit in the seat opposite, ‘I’ve just had my knee done’. Knowing eyes, sombre smile. ‘How is it?’,
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I asked, managing to secure my crutches at a safe distance. ‘Right now I wish I hadn’t had it done’, she said, ‘it was better before. But it was only three months ago so hopefully it will get better. I don’t think I’ll have the other one done though. I’ll see how it goes.’.
For Lucy’s 50th Anniversary, we are sharing 10 facts for five issues of the Chronicle by Cherish Watton.
We are all breakable. Our experience is unique but also shared. We are not alone.
Cavendish’s background. The stag represents the Cavendish family (her husband being the second son of the Duke of Devonshire) and the scallop shell represents her family, the Lyttletons.
An early story I heard was from a man who sat opposite me in a cafe in Colorado, shortly after my accident. His skin was weathered, wrinkled and tanned, his body lean and agile-looking, his face jovial, eyes excited and alive. I guessed he was in his sixties but he could have been older. He looked hardy, like a man of the mountains, a man with many stories. He asked what my story was, as they all have. As I spoke I saw that knowing look in his eyes. I looked down at his legs and saw scars which I hadn’t seen before. Three separate leg breaking stories. Each sounded increasingly gruesome. The last was an incident involving an accidental explosion which broke both legs and almost completely severed the left from below the knee. Two full length leg casts up to the waist for over a year. Three years to heal. Thirty-six months. One hundred and fifty six weeks. But there he was laughing, joking, walking. I’ve heard about the broken ankle from a rugby accident, the traumatic brain injury after falling from a ladder, the shattered heals from a climbing accident, the injuries from shrapnel in the Vietnam war, and many more. Most times I go out in public with my boot and crutches I hear a story from a stranger. A stranger who asks my story and who shares their story with me. A stranger with knowing eyes. Knowing eyes which give strength. We are all breakable. Our experience is unique but also shared. We are not alone. I’m lucky. I wear this hurt on the outside, making it easy for the knowing eyes to find me. Other hurts are not so easy to see, not so easy for knowing eyes to find, but still needing to be found. ■
1. The vision for the college was formed by women of the Dining Group in Cambridge.
2. The college shield of arms reflects Lucy
3. There is no high table; Fellows are seat-
ed around the dining hall during Formal Hall.
4. The first President was Dr Anna Bidder (1965 – 1970). Bidder played a fundamental part in setting the foundations for the whole ethos of the college. After her term as President, Bidder returned to her research in zoology.
5. The eight and current President is Jackie
Ashley (2015 – 2022). Ashley comes to us following a successful career in political journalism and commentary for a variety of high profile newspapers and broadcasters. Since arriving at the college, Ashley has convened a conference on ‘Where are the women?’
6. In 2012, the college hosted a Regency Ball
to mark the 200th anniversary of Pride and Prejudice.
7. Elizabeth Dupré became the first graduate student in 1966 admitted to the college to do a PhD in History.
8. Today, Lucy has 370 students, from 60 countries.
9. The college was the first in the University
of Cambridge to use solar power to heat water, an initiative led by Lucy student Beryl Green.
10. “We are not ladies who lunch!” In
1951, these were the words of Dr Anna Bidder, the first president of the college and one of the ladies of the Dining Group.
For more, see ‘50 facts: Discovering Lucy Cavendish College’ which can be viewed online or purchased for
www.facebook.com/thecavendishchronicle