When I was blind, I learned the power of touch. The New York Times featured an article in the last few days about a California research team who have gone to great lengths to prove the power of touch, scientifically. Their research sounds fascinating, with a real potential to deepen people’s understanding of the need for touch in their lives, for marketers to think up new ways to influence our behaviour, and for scientists understanding of the complex human system.

My experience of being blind, at the Extraordinary Nalaga’at (meaning ‘Do Touch’) Centre in Jaffa port, Tel Aviv, was artistic rather than scientific, but it taught me what their research indicates in a transformational few hours.

The Nalaga’at deaf and blind theatre Centre is the only venue of its kind in the world. It is a place where barriers to understanding are broken down, whether they be sensory, linguistic, or cultural. Eleven deafblind actors take to the stage three nights per week, performing for audiences who travel from around the world to experience their productions. A deaf team invite visitors to order from a selection of drinks and lite bites at Café Kapisch. A blind team wait to escort guests through a gourmet dinner, in complete darkness at the restaurant, Blackout.

At Blackout, I was blind, and in way I was also deaf. Speaking no Hebrew, I was entirely dependent on my two interpreters, and my own sense of touch. One interpreter, Ronen, who I met briefly just a few hours earlier, translated Hebrew to English, as I witnessed tactile sign language interpreters support the performers in ‘Not by Bread alone.’ My other interpreter, Beza, provided excellent service, guiding me through blindness like the most adept sommelier guides wine selection.

Touch communicated an immense amount. Beza was resolutely professional. His touch was mostly matter of fact, though he clearly sensed my moments of fear and uncertainty, and would provide a reassuring hand. Ronen, like me, is accustomed to sight. We shared  an awkwardness of unfamiliarity, with one another, with darkness, with how will we will refill our water (or wine!) glass? While we did have a shared language to support us, it was touch that we trusted to read each other, our table, and environs. The feel of Ronen’s tentativeness matched my own when we realised we had to seek out each other’s hands to find our way together to the water jug, and the glass, in order to pour and know it wouldn’t be on each other. I felt relaxation in someone else as we overcame our awkwardness. We shared a lot of laughter. (In total blackness, I swear I felt the reverberations of clinking glasses, clanging silverware, laughter and conversation.) As our dinner progressed, Beza’s expert hand helped me find intentionality, focus in the task at hand. The power of touch helped me understand not just place and position, but mood, tone and purpose. Touch built trust.

LIFT seeks support to bring Nalaga’at to London as part of LIFT 2010. Click here to find out more.