I had the pleasure of speaking at a Lincoln University alumni dinner last week, the Southland branch to be precise. It was a jovial little gathering where a few lies were told over a few sherberts. The thing that stood out the most, however, was a genuine pride in the old alma mater.
The reputation of Lincoln students as a depraved bunch is worn as a badge of honour- and so it should be.
As you enter the workforce, you can unwittingly leave behind any sense of tribalism and we humans love a good tribe. Some of us find it at school, others with sports teams, even a band or a type of music can get the tribal juices flowing. Well, let me tell you, the Lincoln folk have it in spades. I told them I was from Otago University which, luckily for me, was acceptable as it appears Massey is the true enemy.
My time at Otago was a constant grapple with rugby and substance abuse, the latter severely hindering the former. But one thing many people were surprised to hear was the holy trinity of Otago student pubs, the Gardies, the Cook and the Bowler, are all no longer. The university has bought two of the sites and now academia rather than revelry reigns supreme on these patches of north Dunedin. The powers-that-be have embarked on a concerted effort to "clean up" the reputation of Otago and are trying to curb the image of a riotous hell hole, where fire and debauchery are prevalent on lawless streets of broken glass and discarded trash. Not an entirely false picture, granted, but one that doesn't play out well when the parents of potential students are scouring google for suitable places to send their offspring.
They'll never admit it, but the university wants to attract more students from overseas - the money they bring in is more plentiful than a bloke from south Dunedin. That's their prerogative but what is has done is usher in what I call manufactured fun. Much of the folklore of places such as Otago has been developed over decades of trial and error, tradition borne out of circumstance and situation. Now those elements are neatly packaged into a controlled environment dubbed "the scarfie experience". The difference is you never used to buy tickets for the Hyde Street keg party.
