‘Qalb — A Journey of the Ego’ is a powerful look at the world from the perspective of the deaf community

Imagine sitting down to a family dinner and not being able to understand what people are saying because you’re deaf and no one at the table knows American Sign Language or bothers to include you.
When you ask why your siblings are laughing or your parents are arguing, they shoot back with the following: “Never mind. It’s nothing. We’ll tell you later.”
As Dawn Jani Birley’s title character explains in “Qalb — A Journey of the Ego,” in the deaf community this is called “the Dinner Table Syndrome.” And Birley’s recreation of this scene is one of the most powerful moments in the show, especially with Laura Warren’s projections of these dismissive words blanketing the stage and obscuring the actor herself.
Best known for her award-winning performance as Horatio in Why Not Theatre’s groundbreaking production of “Prince Hamlet,” Birley also adapted Shakespeare’s Scottish play for deaf and hearing audiences, playing the title role of “Lady M” with fierce commitment and physicality. That latter show was the inaugural production of her own company, 1S1 Theatre, which is producing this new work along with co-presenters Why Not.
“Qalb” takes its title from the work and philosophy of the 13th-century poet Rumi. (“Qalb” means “heart” in Persian.) And throughout the hour-long show, snatches of translated verse appear periodically on a circular screen in Maryam Hafizirad’s spare but effective set design.
“Anger,” we’re told early on, “is like a strong wind. It calms down after a while, but lots of branches are already broken.”
Anger, it turns out, also fuels some of the most vivid scenes in “Qalb.” Midway through the play, Birley’s character describes the challenge of applying to one of the country’s most prestigious law schools. She’s accepted, but when she inquires about translation services, her acceptance is rescinded, since she didn’t disclose her deafness.
“Was I also supposed to disclose my shoe size or my astrological sign?” she asks us.
Later, she finds out a theatre company is mounting a new play with a deaf character in it. When she discovers the actor playing the character isn’t deaf, she launches into a passionate speech about how unacceptable this would be with any other case of artistic appropriation.
All of this hits home forcefully. What needs further development, however, is the play’s integration of Rumi into Birley’s world. How did she discover the poet? How has Rumi’s writing affected her own approach to life and art? And what significance does Deb’e Taylor’s character Ego play in this world? Surely, Rumi’s concept of Ego isn’t the same as the one from psychoanalytic theory.
Despite these questions, director/co-writer Debbie Z. Rennie has taken great care with the production. Clad in costume designer Giedrius Šarkauskas’s humble cloth robes and bathed in André du Toit’s evocative lighting, the two actors bring lots of physicality to their contrasting roles, with Taylor often speaking aloud what Birley is signing.
Taylor, besides being a certified ASL interpreter and a confident, authoritative actor, is also a magnificent taiko drummer, and the sounds and vibrations she produces are primal, urgent and timeless. It’s the thundering drums, and not just the text, that hearkens back to the questions and concerns of the past.
When the two women connect in the show’s staggering finale, they communicate in a way that goes beyond speech and language. No translation is necessary.