Leverburgh Village Hall, Harris, 18 July 2006

EJ Raymond as Maria.

A WARM BREEZE was coming down from the South Harris hills and the evening street-market outside Leverburgh hall was still lively. Splashes of colour and rhythm welcome a small gathering of folk. Popcorn is being given out from a mobile stall and then without warning a figure in black military dress starts jabbing a sub-machine gun, scattering everything.

This was the Birds of Paradise Theatre Company evoking events in Guatemala – a country overshadowed by larger neighbours but which has suffered more than most.

Their new play, ‘Mouth of Silence’, by Gerry Loose, continues a pattern established by the company, which has had a successful history in inclusive theatre, always involving disabled actors. The present artistic director, Morven Gregor, has strong links with Latin America and this work (as well as the last Birds Of Paradise play) invite understanding and empathy between Scotland and other nations which at first seem a million miles away.

Anyone who has seen the Peter Watkins documentary on Culloden, recently shown again on BBC4, will see the links as a dominant military force is used to silence indigenous voices. Whether the dominant language is English or Spanish, it is used as a tool to stamp on the individual strands of culture, seen as a threat by military authorities.

So the subject matter is not easy. But it’s delivered with wit and poetry in the writing, committed acting and a style of directing which engages the audience. You follow the dispersed villagers, walking a bit of the way with them to a place of exile. You then march with them back to their own lands. You are preached at in turn by a drunken entertainer and an evangelist. There is very little high-tech about. It’s a simple, strong set. You are led indoors again to a well-lit stage area.

One villager, Maria, played by E J Raymond who is profoundly deaf, remembers in silence. As the other characters communicate with her, they sign their speeches. Gregor has chosen to sustain that process through the whole play – a huge commitment but one which gives a unique undersong to the work. It becomes a visual jazz and gives the pauses in sound which allow Loose’s eloquence some breathing space to work.

The preacher man with the southern drawl begins to sign with hesitation. As he comes closer to listening to the villager’s need to exhume and re-bury the bones of their disappeared ones, his signing becomes steadier. He is beginning to listen and so proves that there is a chance of building bridges across the most painful silences.

It’s a real pity that Stornoway audiences did not have a chance to see Birds Of Paradise this time round. A matter of timing – but please don’t miss the energy of this team game if you have another chance, either on this tour or a future one.

© Ian Stephen, 2006

LINK

• Birds of Paradise