The most remarkable quality about Jon Shirota's "Voices From Okinawa" is that it makes a political point with genuine warmth and kindness: American troops have been in Okinawa for 60 years — perhaps that has been long enough.

Kumu Kahua's timing of this production is serendipitous, as President Obama announced just this month that he will establish a high-level working group to study the contentious issue of the continuing presence of a Marine base in Okinawa.

But his play "is not anti-American," notes the playwright, "It is pro-Okinawan."

Shirota's restraint in supporting his thesis is revealed most strongly in his central characters — none of whom indulge in personal ax-grinding.

The focal point is Kama Hutchins (Tyler Tanabe), raised in Hawai'i and teaching English to Okinawan adults. He's only one-fourth Okinawan by blood, but "100 percent in his heart."

The English class becomes an effective story-telling device, as each of the students is required to deliver a short speech about themselves or about people they know. The most entertaining is Yasunobu Hokama, the "best barber in town," who relates a cheerful anecdote about a GI who conned him into a free haircut.

Shirota blatantly strong-arms a major subplot to intertwine with the English class, as Kama discovers an ancient relative with a five-acre sugarcane field that could be swallowed up for American use. Valerie Falle creates the delightful character of Obaa-san, nearly 100 years old and still entertaining the possibility of taking another husband.

And while each of Shirota's characters represents some facet of cultural contamination by overt Americanization, there are limited victims and few real villains. A young man is virtually adopted by a childless general's wife. A pair of young hipsters flaunt Americanized styles and mannerisms. A school administrator insists on phrase repetition rather than self-expression.

Even the 11th-hour revelation of schoolgirl rape by an American serviceman is quickly attributed to "one bad apple."

Clearly, contemporary Okinawa is not the hell-hole of Saigon prior to the fall of the American embassy. But it is something of an old wound that has not yet fully closed.

In telling that story, Shirota — assisted by Reiko Ho's careful stage direction — develops his points quietly, rather like a wise elder careful not to excite a new student. The action ends on a positive and celebratory note with an Okinawan kachashi — an improvised dance in which the audience is invited to take part.

Overhead lanterns and twinkle lights add to that festive feeling.