Ritual as a Window on History

“Ritual of a Bop Solo,” written by Tarabu Betserai Kirkland, is one of the more innovative plays to hit Los Angeles. Unlike the safety of typical Western drama, “Ritual” is drawn from the roots of black/African culture and tradition, and relies on the intricacy of music, the deep structured meaning of the spoken word and movement.

What is clear in Laurie Winer’s review is that she dismissed the play early and did not allow herself to hear the words of the characters (“Strange Journey of ‘Ritual’ Lacks Sense of Coherence,” Nov. 6). She mentions that the writer never confronts the fact that the protagonist, Abdul, is an attempted murderer, but in the poignant final ritual where the spirit breaks through to the dimension of the living, Abdul admits he pulled the trigger and that his betrayal was unforgivable. The reviewer also insists that the play “protests too much.” She obviously overlooked the fact that these characters had their roots in the black power movement of the 1960s. Protest was, and is, the ritual of liberation.

The importance of ritual is that it has a history, and those that are involved share common cultural traditions, thereby lending itself to be understood. Ritual has the ability to make sense of reality by revisiting the past for a renewing effect. It also has the ability to forgive in order for renewal to occur, which is a major dynamic of this play.

Because ritual is culturally derived, it should never be manipulated or interpreted by unfamiliar participants who do not know the symbols involved or do not share in the traditions out of which the rituals evolve. To this extent, Shabaka Henley’s direction provides the audience with images and voices of black and white rituals that almost become one, yet they suddenly widen into suicide. The play consistently asks, “Do we understand one another’s rituals?” They converge, conflict and are often products of juxtaposition. The tragedy is that we live in a society with people who are in a position to assess others, often seeking carbon copies of themselves. As is reflected in the play, this society can kill a man and then accuse him of suicide. This is precisely why we need cultural criticism that represents and understands communities of color.

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Abdul is a familiar voice who has never kept himself hidden away and who appears with each generation of African survivors. He is an important link in the chain of the middle passage. As a descendant of survivors, his rhythms are interchangeable with each person that he meets, but reliant on a collective harmony. His actions may not be condoned, yet this community interprets his genius for madness. His words are poignant to those who listen, but improvisations of an unknown song to unfamiliar ears, which can create confusion (i.e., conflict).

Not all of the symbols attached to ritual are immediately understood by the novice listener/viewer. “Ritual of a Bop Solo,” for example, refers to John Coltrane, Miles Davis and Charlie “Yardbird” Parker. These are deathless names linked to jazz and African American history. On one hand, they symbolize an effect of a captured movement across waters; on the other, they are synonymous with the progressive jazz movement and tandem consciousness.

Neither of these movements have reached their final destinations, but the names are symbolically understood as those of travelers important to ritual legacies: Bird, ‘Trane, Miles. And like the play itself, each of the characters has their own solo to explain a tragedy and the society to which it is connected.

As one character declares, “Every solo has a chord,” (“cord”)?

In the opinion of this writer, one who has been involved with the living of ritual and the teaching of theater for many years, you must not stand at the threshold, but become an active participant in the discovery and experience of others’ rituals in order to understand how renewing and healing works among survivors. Tarabu Betserai Kirkland offered his characters and the audience this experience.