Afghan Women Fearful of Rights Regression

The majority of Afghan women fear the return of the Taliban should NATO leave the country, a survey has reported.

Action Aid, the aid agency that commissioned the survey, announced 86% of the 1000 female participants cited the regression of recent women’s rights progress as their main concern.  

However, women have suffered a steady decline into old traditions for the past three years, claims Action Aid, a champion of women's rights.

“Although it is true that women are enjoying more freedom and better education, women are being pushed out of negotiations when it comes to making decisions for the country,” said AA’S Jane Moyo, head of media relations officer for Action Aid.  

Moyo continued: “It is not a coincidence that 70% of those below the poverty line globally are women. We believe women’s rights are imperative for a country’s development and so we fully support Dr Masouda Jalal’s Presidential candidacy.”

Afghanistan has made significant progress since the 2001 invasion drove the suppressive Taliban regime from government, particularly in urban areas. Women are now allowed to leave the house without the company of a man and 2.7 million girls are now enrolled at school.

However, Action Aid warn these gains are not irreversible and are concerned for the welfare of outspoken advocates for women’s rights, should the Taliban regain control. 

Not such a super injunction

As a footy fan, I know I shouldn’t be bothered by it. This is a story for the other half to whinge about from behind her glossy magazine. He has been a fantastic servant to British football, defying all rules of physics to play for 20 seasons in the fastest and toughest league in the world. Yet I am; in fact it makes my blood boil.

            It is not the affair part. Though terrible that it is, they are two-a-penny in the Premier League these days and I am slightly ashamed to say my moral senses have been somewhat deadened to them. Indeed, I have returned to viewing Crouch as a freak and not just a love rat, and no longer is Robin Van Persie an accused rapist in my eyes. (I’ll admit Wayne Rooney and Ashley Cole haven’t yet been forgiven, but a granny hooker and cheating on Cheryl is just idiotic.)

            No, it is the deceit, the cowardice and his defiance to mug us all off that has ruffled my feathers. It is rumoured that his teammates advised him to save what little reputation he could by confessing, but it is too late. Tonight it is **** ***** (can we type it yet?) with egg all over his face.

            What a farce it was. In the end Giggs has been made a mockery of by Twitter, blogs, MPs, even the Scottish – in fact, just about everyone in Britain’s biggest game of Chinese whispers.

            There are a few specific aspects of the injunction that I take objection to. Primarily, it is that Giggs has used the media to build a personal empire worth £25 million over his 20 years in football; he can’t just shoot the messenger now the story line doesn’t suit him. Does this episode ring a bell?: “And your 2009 Sports Personality Lifetime Achievement Award award goes to… actually he can’t be named for legal reasons.” No, me neither. Nor did I see his face blurred out on Reebok posters.

            He has built a brand image (and fortune) not only based on his silky skills, but also his clean cut, family man persona. Now that this lies in tatters, taming the media beast isn’t an option. Fans and parents of impressionable children have the right to know what they are buying into.

            Secondly, whilst he has gutlessly hidden behind anonymity, teary Imogen Thomas has been the face of the saga. Although Imogen is far from angelic, she has attracted sympathy as a representation of much of what is wrong with injunctions. Whilst rich and powerful (not to mention married) men can buy their soul back from the devil, those less fortunate are hung out to dry, bearing the brunt as the sole perpetrator in the case.

            If you’re (understandably) finding it tough to spare a thought for Imogen in these long library days, it would take a heart as cold as ice to ignore the trauma Giggs’ wife must be going through. She had to endure the cruelty and humiliation of fans tormenting her on Saturday, as her husband continued to run around with all the delusion of a headless chicken.

            Sceptics naturally point to the vested interests the media have in reporting the scandal. Although I don’t envy innocent celebs who are subjected to a distorted celebrity culture that preys on their private lives, if he was so keen to avoid the circus, perhaps jumping into bed with a glamour model who shot to fame from a reality TV series wasn’t the smartest idea, eh, Giggs?

            Finally, I suggest the majority are less than impressed to see Giggs f*ck up and then order us to shut up. Freedom of expression is our basic human right and we will use it between friends, on Twitter and on blogs if we so wish. Today it is just another WAGs affair, but the precedence is set. Large and worrying strides have been made towards George Orwell’s 1984 dystopia. Although Fleet Street’s hands have been tied, it will take more to constrain the Internet's might. 

In Search of 'Castle Rugby'

Before every game and during every half time we would form a huddle, as is customary to do on the rugby field. And I have to say, in every huddle there would be confusion. Tactics would be vague and weren’t helped by the abundance of swear words. Certain players were notable for contradicting previous inputs of ‘wisdom.’ It’s uncanny the number of times ‘We aren’t committing enough players to the rucks’ would be followed by, ‘We are over-committing to the rucks!’

            Invariably there would be two phrases that would sum up our team talks. ‘For the ******* badge, boys!’ showed our immense pride in pulling on those cardinal shirts, but the second remains somewhat ambiguous: ‘Let’s play Castle rugby, boys!’ I think it was supposed to mean the forwards boss the game, before our flair backs are given the space to play expansive, running rugby and finish off in the corner. Unfortunately, ‘white line fever’ often plagued our forwards, most notably Jack Pile, winner of the ‘Props’ Pot’ for 3 consecutive years.

            The traditional season opener against Hatfield ‘Freshers XV’ was always a tense affair. A draw and a narrow loss in first and second year respectively were respectable results for Castle, considering the small army of yellow and blue that would greet us at the end of our undoubtedly bleary eyed trudge down to MC. But the boys were elated to go a step further, finally hoisting the flag this year after a stunning display of ‘Castle rugby’ (whatever that may be).

            This fine performance was surpassed only by our first year run to the semi-finals of the Floodlit Cup, beating several premiership teams en route. There we met Grey, or more specifically, their colossal full back. Though then captain, Andy Ball’s magical side step cut him down to size. We put in a performance that we were immensely proud of in front of a sold out (almost) crowd, but fell just short.

            Off the field, Castle continued to thrive in the Undie. ‘Initial socials’ were always conducted in good humour, with boathouse traumas and wardrobe malfunctions soon forgotten. The team took their flair brand of ‘Castle rugby’ to Prague in the spring of 2009, though it was in the bars that the majority of the action happened. Debbie Dumpling holds a special place in many of the boy’s hearts. Her impressive magic trick of vanishing a fully grown rugby player under her (naked) body will not be forgotten by anyone present, particularly by me – I was the poor soul that was vanished!

            Thanks must go out to ’10-‘11 team captain, Alex Ritchie, and club captain, Sean Sarafilovic for doing an exemplary job. It is a testament to the club that we attract players of all kinds, from Korean first timers to Durham County U20’s players. Win, lose or draw, our beloved Undie will always unite the squad for a drink or several. After all is said and done, I think this is what ‘Castle rugby’ is all about - long may it continue.

Floreat Castellum,

Thomas Clarke

This Is How You Score, Chris

England's prolific try scoring winger, Chris Ashton, has spent the week being taught how to score a try - by England's coach, Martin Johnson. The scorer of two tries last Friday night against Wales was warned of his show-boating antics and shown video footage of similar celebrations that turned horribly wrong ahead of this Saturday's Six Nations encounter against Italy at Twickenham.

Ashton claims last weekend’s pre-try celebration was an “in the minute thing” but, having been reigned in by England management, he concedes he will not be making the same mistake this weekend.

“You don’t want to be one of those guys who runs away with themselves, I only have eight caps.

“Having said that, everyone wants to bring out a bit more of themselves, but it takes a while to break the ice in a team. Whilst you are winning everyone is happy and you can bounce off each other. This week the boys have been enjoying themselves at my expense.”

He admitted that if he had dropped the ball, the consequences would not be worth thinking about. “I would have been in a world of pain! I have taken a lot of stick from the boys this week.”

Meanwhile, Martin Johnson played down the supposed rollicking Ashton received after the match as “grossly exaggerated.”

“My reaction wasn’t over the top because it didn’t need to be. The good thing for me is the boys stick their own hand up when they’ve made an error. He gave away a silly penalty as well, but he knew that.”

“The incident gave the management an opportunity to reinforce the principles of placing the ball down, primarily safely but also as close to the posts as possible. Two points can win us the game.”

Johnson reiterated the respect that would be offered to Italy following their narrow loss to Ireland last weekend. “Italy’s defence will be as robust as Wales’ was so we mustn’t get ahead of ourselves. Number one we want to win, and doing so without injuries will take precedence over flair.”

However, this may not please an expectant Twickenham crowd. Accepting that the English fans want to be entertained, Johnson reassured fans his side will “bring the juice in order to get the crowd into the game.”

Although Johnson named the forecasted unchanged starting line-up, South African born Hendre Fourie replaces Joe Worsley on the bench.  As the only authentic open-side flanker in the squad, Johnson hinted Fourie could earn his fifth cap in the final 20 minutes on Saturday.

“If Italy turn up like we know they can we are going to be heading for a close game in the last quarter. Fourie will be useful for regaining possession when the ball gets a bit looser in the rucks.”

Durham Lecturer Sets New Transatlantic Rowing Record

Durham Lecturer Sets Atlantic Rowing Record

A Durham lecturer has set a new record for the quickest time to row across the Atlantic. Two other Durham alumni joined her in a six-person crew. 'Team Hallin' smashed the previous record by 20 hours and 14 minutes.

Naomi Hoogesteger, 29, who teaches Modern Languages was the only female on board the 31 day, 23 hour and 31 minute voyage, but she was treated as one of the boys.

It took just 3 days for the men to strip off to avoid blisters. One day later she was joining them.

           

“I had some big sores on my bum and just had to do it. My crew had stripped off the day before and were just getting on with it,” she said. This was just one of the many sacrifices made to become world record holders. “I’ve seen enough manly dangly bits to last me a life time,” she added.

Flying fish, 30ft waves and a Russian cargo ship were amongst the other hazards the crew had to negotiate, a far cry from the meandering River Wear.

But the most physically and emotionally demanding challenge was sleep deprivation.

The crew rowed around the clock in two teams of three. Each team had just two hours to eat, sleep and run repairs on the boat before another gruelling two-hour stint. The voyage cost each rower 2 stone.

Team Hallin took advantage of January’s trade winds and settled currents to make the 3,000-mile journey from Tenerife to Barbados.

But their boat was their secret weapon. The 40 foot long boat has a revolutionary tri-hull design that was built for both speed and stability - an important feature if they all wanted to keep dry.

For ex DUBC rower, Chris Covey, the journey provided plenty of time to consider his next challenge: how to pop the question to his girlfriend.

Fortunately it went as successfully as the voyage. Let’s hope his next journey is plain sailing. 

5 Reasons Why the Surf Trip was Better than the Ski Trip

Whilst every other man and his dog descended on Val D’Isere this Christmas, a small but well crafted group of adventurers headed off for some sun, sea and surf in Morocco. Here are 5 reasons why you should think about doing the same next year.

1. So the journey begins...

…and ends before the ski trip coaches have even left the country. Twice the distance was covered in a quarter of the time. Our cattle class tickets might as well have been business class in comparison to the battery hens crawling their way across France. With the crew riding high on the giddy pre-holiday optimism that airports instil, the 5am meet time merely provided the opportunity to enjoy a sunset surf later that day. Only some Moroccan mischief from the airport taxi drivers delayed our swift voyage. A corrupt police intervention meant we were not allowed to board the arranged mini buses to our surf camp, Surf Berbere, instead having to use the taxis that apparently have a monopoly over the airport.

2. Sunny Delight

No, I have not been to the tanning salon; this is an authentic all over tan without a hint of any panda eyes. If wall-to-wall sunshine is not your thing then Morocco isn’t the place for you. It is not an exaggeration when I boast we saw one lonely cloud float by all week, and this is supposedly their winter. It was a pleasant 20-25 degrees every day with a calm sea breeze. It’s fair to say I’ve had more Vitamin D than you can shake your Sunny D at, making it the perfect preparation for the upcoming hectic epiphany term.

3. Cultural Exchange

It is difficult to define the culture over there, as it seemed to be a melting pot of a variety of influences. The Islamic state had a more Middle-Eastern spice than it’s north African location suggests, though there was a certain air of African friendliness which, once blended into surfing’s laid back lifestyle, made for a distinctly chilled and relaxed pace of life.

As the winter stomping grounds for any European surfer worth their salt, the town is geared around surfing. Imagine a Moroccan Newquay, but without the 16-year-old chavs, rain and sloppy surf. World-class point breaks adorn the coastline with double over-head swells regularly rolling in.

I feel like I have experienced something truly different from the norm. The ski trip on the other hand, merely packed Durham up into a suitcase and carted it off to a different town. Same people, same attitude, same snow – Durham is just a couple of mountains short of being Val D’Isere. They simply swapped Klute for La Follie Douce. The term ‘same shit, different toilet’ comes to mind.

4. “We’re all friends here...”

I’m not talking about the ‘I saw you across the piste in a sexy one piece and thought I’d add you’ type of friend; I’m talking about the ‘I’ve seen you practically naked’ type of friend. This wasn’t a college clique surf holiday disguised as a ‘Palat-in-surf’ trip. We put our college allegiances aside for a minute to get to know people of different cultures, for example, Stockton.

5. All for a snip

When weighing up the surf trip versus the ski trip, the real deal clincher was the price. There was no ‘basic package’ with plenty of extras. It was simply £250 for full board, equipment hire and transfers. The flights were the only thing left, which cost £100 but only because I was so unorganised, but still making the full cost the same as the ski trip (without skis, lift pass upgrade, food and paraphernalia they rope you into buying).

Before you all slag me off as some judgemental hippy surfer prick, I’ve been on both sides of the fence, and to be honest, I find myself now sat on it. I went on the ski trip to Val Thorens last year and OK, I’ll admit I loved it. Both weeks will live long in my memory for different reasons. I’m just trying to stoke your flames and maybe plant a seed. Next year don’t be so quick to jump on the Durham bandwagon, go in search of the path less travelled for a change.

How to Win The Ashes: A student's perspective.

It has been a tough winter for students. First they shoot fees sky high making every hour of contact for us BA students worth (probably) at least £100, then they put the Ashes series slap bang through the business end of Michaelmas term.

Any hope of attending those 4 hours of lectures a week is bleaker than the mid-winter itself. Mentally, we are down under; physically, we can't cope.

Ashes fever has been sprinkling across Durham. The results will be released late June as to whether we have survived.

The symptoms are bizarre. Men are driven to commit that most serious of faux pas - engaging in conversation at the urinals (not even Ashes banter can justify it), and rather than the onus being on pulling at any cost, staying single and mobile is imperative for a rapid get away to catch those all important early morning overs.

In fact, staying away from the alcohol all together is vital to the success of an Ashes party. Lessons were learnt the hard way on the first day of the first test. My drunken euphoria lasted about as long as a Ricky Ponting innings.

Counting down days until your dissertation hand in date is not best done sober, but it’s a sacrifice worth making to witness records tumble like Aussie wickets. I’ve lost count of the number of times a record was broken for, e.g., ‘the 6^th wicket partnership on a 3^rd day of an Ashes test match for England in Adelaide,’ but every one was priceless.

Only the bitterest Aussie will sledge Collingwood for his meagre contribution with the bat this series. He is the type that we will only know what we had once he’s gone.

Nevertheless, the future looks bright for England. Steven Finn will feel hard done by to miss out on the last two tests, Stuart Broad will relegate Tim Bresnan to a very good reserve and Eoin Morgan will be more than a match for Colly’s efforts at the crease and even in the field.

Judging by England’s latest fielding efforts, Colly’s absence in this department will barely be noticed - a legacy he can be proud of leaving.

But in the end, it is for the big record that this series will be remembered. We were not alive the last time England won in Australia, and most of the last 24 years of Ashes wilderness in the Aussie bush will have been inconsequential to us - “Go to bed! You can watch the highlights (or lowlights) tomorrow” - but the sense of history is very palpable.

Watching the normally long faced Boycott, Nasser and Botham grinning like kids in a sweet shop is enough to get us equally giddy at 4am.

As academics we are able to use a few more adjectives than KP (everything is "just amazing”), though outstanding, superlative and unrivaled can’t quite sum up this England squad as well as they deserve.

The series will not reverberate around the globe in the way 2005’s did, mainly because Australia’s efforts had all the heart of sticking a large white flag out of their window most mornings. And for that may we gloat for two and a half glorious years. If Geoffrey Boycott can, it’s about time Andrew Flower afforded himself a smile.