Tis a strange thing.

Strange but true.

I get a frisson of excitement, a soupçon of a thrill, when I enter a theatre space and the set is sparse. There’s no particular science here but it usually equates to good, honest theatre. A statement as broad and sweeping as they come. But there’s nowhere to hide. It’s all on the performance and creative acts that got it there.

Tender is one such play. It comes with meaning, education, research and truth.

Drawing on the personal narratives of its company of refugee actors, Tender moves between the UK and home countries to explore the true cost of the migration journey for those young people who come seeking asylum.

With no safety net, no right to work and debts to pay, how do they focus on building a future? When a choice between going to college or earning money, what gives?

How much human potential is compromised by Britain’s ever-tightening hostile environment?

Tender arrives in front of us fully formed.

Fully formed and informed.

Phosphoros Theatre runs theatre projects for refugees, 16-26 in London, as well as delivering workshops for refugee and youth organisations, Local Authorities, schools and universities.

I learn that from the show notes that Tender has been in the making for three years. During an extensive research process lead by writer, Dawn Harrison, director Pav Christodoulou and performer, Sara Zeus, the words and experiences of refugee youth from around the UK have been listened to, noted, and with the involvement of all five actors in the play – Abel Atsede, Klevina Moriqi, Ibrahim Chibou, Ismael Mohammed (and, again, Sara), a story has been formed and given life.

I talk about how Tender delivers an education.

Learning is a literal theme that runs through the 75 minutes of theatre.

In the first scenes, we are introduced to our five cast as students who proudly perform their understanding of their learning of numbers in English. We’re also immediately relaxed into what we realise is going to be an engaging and inviting format. Each character funny, flawed, real and relatable.

Relatable as people.

For most, not relatable in terms of experience. As I fall into the latter category, I’m acutely aware that at 18, my daily gripes, petty problems, even perhaps larger concerns bore no relation to the issues depicted in front of me.

Numbers. Another theme throughout.

Back to the opening scene, each number voiced is accompanied by a context.

11! The number on the door of where the Prime Minister resides!

No, that’s 10!

How do you know, have you been?!

It is later that we’re taken on a figurative and literal journey when one character boards the incorrect bus due to a misunderstanding of numbers and finds themselves lost in an unfamiliar part of London, in a still unfamiliar country and culture.

Numbers – in later scenes, we see our cast chalking up numbers on a blackboard, as they attempt to make the numbers add up from their minimum wage jobs to meet their financial responsibilities to family back in their home countries, and their bills now that they’ve reached the age of independent adulthood…

18. 18, that magic number where refugees to the UK move from having a social worker to a personal adviser. Where you can get into a club ‘without having to remember a fake date of birth. You can drink and dance and stay out all night.

But 18. Where you have to support yourself. There’s no safety net. And does that mean you can still afford to get an education? Can you afford not to?

The luxury of choice is not afforded to all.

And the numbers continue to not add up from the minimum wage earnings.

In a well choreographed musical montage, we see our cast, almost blur before our eyes as they mime out a frenzy of activity as they take orders, make deliveries, try to make ends meet in jobs that never seem to literally pay off.

And through it all we see our bold and brave, feisty and funny friends, seek out the sixth entity from the outfit: their friend who one day doesn’t show up to class. A friend who has touched each of their lives in different ways has disappeared from home and their world where they share a solidarity.

And as their fears grow, we’re reminded of the dangers of deportation, the threats to dignity, the oppression and ever increasing threat to human rights faced by refugees both young and old.

I said earlier that Tender arrives in front of us fully formed.

Actually I take that back. I’d say Tender is 50% formed.

The remaining half is realised in the receiving of the message by us the audience, how it makes us feel and how we may open our eyes even wider to the ever-building crisis for refugees.

And so, what to conclude about this piece of captivating theatre, with its well-developed characters, incredible cast, innovative approach to story-telling…

In 75 minutes, it delivers sit-up straight in your seats messaging that rather than wags a finger in your face and hits you over the head with facts, humanises an issue that is all too often buried and distracted by faceless stats and clinically quoted policies and procedures…

Give the news a miss tonight, and instead go along to Theatre 2 at HOME, and listen…

(Oh and my theory held up on the set…stepladders and plastic chairs are the sure sign you’re about to witness something spectacular ☺️)

You can catch Tender at HOME MCR tonight, Friday 10 May, and Saturday 11 May. For tickets and full details of the cast and crew, head to https://homemcr.org/production/tender/

To learn more about the work of Phosphoros Theatre, head to https://www.phosphorostheatre.com/