In Selina Thompson’s monologue, salt is a symbol of tears, sweat and the sting of old wounds. It’s a valuable commodity, while also calling to mind the ocean’s immensity and cleansing power.
Early in Dawn Walton’s heartfelt production, self-possessed performer Rochelle Rose starts to pulverise a large pink block of rock salt with a sledgehammer. She’s enacting an attempt to smash the weighty legacy of the Atlantic slave trade. The gesture is cathartic — the block splinters dramatically — but the evidence of the past can never be annihilated.
In part this is a travelogue, recounting Thompson’s efforts to retrace Britain’s slaving routes.
In Belgium she boards a cargo ship, where she experiences the full force of an all-too-familiar 21st century racism. Once in Ghana, she’s pinned motionless by the distressing memory of this ingrained prejudice but when she journeys onward to Jamaica she’s invigorated by a sense of the island’s fecundity.
At the same time this is a requiem for forgotten souls with whom Thompson feels a keen affinity. Breaking up the rock recalls the punishing labour carried out by countless slaves.
Yet it’s a playful process, and this 70-minute piece works because it blends the high seriousness of a moral essay with a vivid, intimate style of storytelling and an unsparingly raw brand of humour.
Until June 1 (020 7565 5000, royalcourttheatre.com)
