Its a Sunday, a cold early afternoon at Dulwich library where my mum and I bundled up to the door at 12pm to get ready for a dose of African Drumming for the Black History Month Period. We stood outside waiting for the doors to the library to open as a small ( very small) crowd gathered around us, we looked around..both of us noticed there wasn’t a large representation of the African continent. In fact as time ticked on and our patience dwindled,we came to the conclusion it was just going to be us “representing” so to speak. A woman, sporting three quarter length jeans and a light blue jumper with her three bouncy blonde sons began chattering about whether they were the only ones going to the drumming workshop, you know the kind of chatter that aims to exclude and include public commentary at the same time ? Where eye contact is towards anyone! But excluding everyone..We watched as she boasted and asked simultaneously. Why else would we be here, as soon as the library opens, on time, reading the black history month poster. We stood in silence, watching “blue jumper” as she made empty inquires.
Djembe drum, for those who might have been a bit confused.
As we entered the room we were greeted by two woman dressed with African material and sitting surrounded by an array of drums. One for each of us I guessed. Taking our seats, shuffling re shuffling etc I began scouring the room (thinking of what a great blog this would make). You had Mr I want the biggest drum who sat pleased with his choice of large bellowing Djembe which he pounded with pride and looked around to see if there would be any threat to his crown. Alas there wasn’t and there being only 3 men in the group he didn’t have much competition. The other man in the room was quite timid, who through out the workshop used only one hand (yes he did have another but I figured it wasn’t quite ready to join in)..he reminded me of Johnny Depp’s Edward Scissor hands, dressed in a black chord shirt and bold pale head, although he was smiling he still sat quite still as if in constant pain.
The first exercise we did after learning the basics was saying our names, after Finn, William, Harry and Maple it came to my turn “chi-sa-ra!” with a drum accompaniment which they repeated back crystal clear! I was so impressed I almost cried, with all my misfortunes at introducing myself to people as they would repeat my name as “crystal, Geesara or worst still Michelle” I wonder if it was the magic of the drum that creates such a success and that perhaps on my daily travels I will bring along a pocket size Djembe for all my name related problems. We kept learning more rhythms and it was really enjoyable creating a large sound scope of African beats, a smile from a woman across the room read “Your good at this! I bet this is like tradition were your from” I smiled back and received a blank stare from “blue jumper” who seemed flustered- to say the least.
As the workshop drew to a close a woman with long red hair came up to us and asked ” You’ve done this before?”
“Yes” I replied “Back home in the tribe we used to play all the time, from dusk till dawn- we try to now but here in this strange land people don’t want to hear it! It has been such a great day- just like home, allow me to offer you some complimentary Caribbean and African fruits. Mango? “
Chisara
Scribbling On Paper 