“Please Touch”
March 20, 2009
Since the establishment of the State of Israel in the aftermath of the Holocaust, the mere existence and survival of the Jewish State has been testimony to the remarkable endurance of the human spirit. And in the span of a mere sixty years, that indomitable spirit has been revealed again and again through the accomplishments and innovations emerging from the people and culture of Israel, affecting such diverse areas as agriculture, technology, medicine and the arts. (Remember that, if you’re reading this on-line, the technology to do so would not have existed were it not for Israeli high-tech innovations!)
But if I were to find a single expression of the power of human spirit exemplified in Israeli society, I might just turn to a simple, theatrical performance that I had the chance to attend during my recent visit this past month. The play took place in a sold-out, 500-seat theater in the old port area of Jaffa, and was titled “Not By Bread Alone.” It was produced by a company called “Nalaga’at”, (which means “Please Touch” — a play on the sign often seen in Israeli shops telling customers “Please Don’t Touch”).
And touching as a means of communication between the actors was essential, because the Nalaga’at Theater actors are all Deaf-Blind. Some have traces of sight, some have traces of hearing, some are totally blind and some are totally deaf. The majority of the actors suffer from an inherited genetic disorder called Usher Syndrome, which initially results in acute deafness and is followed by loss of vision. One of the actors was born blind, and as a complication of meningitis became deaf.
I’ll admit my initial skepticism. How could a troupe of Deaf-Blind actors produce meaningful theater – a genre that is all about communication with the audience? Would this simply be an occasion to offer gracious support to kind but sadly handicapped men and women? What I witnessed was nothing short of startlingly powerful, moving, and beautiful.
According to the event program, most Deaf-Blind people have the ability to communicate only with those who are familiar with sign language through touch. “Within Nalaga’at, in addition to the accepted sign language, the actors communicate with each other in many different ways. Each and every member has his or her specific communicative needs and abilities, and during their years together the members of the group have learned how to communicate with each other.
“For instance – with Itzik we talk by using the glove language (each joint on the hand symbolizes a letter) typed on his hand. But Yuri writes Braille on Itzik’s hand. Yuri, Igor and Mark talk in the Russian sign language that Tikva translates for them. Tikva also translates the Russian that Genia speaks into Hebrew and Israeli sign language. Nahche speaks loudly into Shoshana’s and Genia’s hearing aids. And Miki, a deaf interpreter watches the sign language of another interpreter in the group and passes on the information by touch to one of the actors. And there you have the communication in Nalaga’at.”
Some of the actors were able to speak, and others could play musical instruments, pantomime or dance. Together, they all shared in the opening scenes of kneading dough in their make-believe bakery, telling through words or translated sign-language the stories of their own lives. Over the course of this hour and a half performance, dream-like sequences combined with real-life thoughts and memories as each of the actors expressed the meaning of lives lived out in utter silence and darkness. Like any other play, the drama included stories of love and fear, loneliness, hope, and triumph. The action was moved forward through various means – including synchronized drumbeats that could be felt by the actors, and their varied means of communication enabled dialogue, cues, and stage direction. And as the show unfolded, the wonderful scent of eleven pans of bread being baked on-stage filled the theater in a manner that transcended the boundaries of sight and sound.
I would not have imagined that a theater company composed of Deaf-Blind actors could inspire an audience, at the climactic final scene, to rise as one in a thunderous ovation. How was it possible for them, rather than the fully seeing and hearing audience, to have shattered the barriers of silence and darkness?
Perhaps it’s another example of a saying we hear and say rather frequently:
“That’s Israel.”
