Last Night I Heard Africa Drumming

In an ordinary community hall
In the south-central section of the city
On one of the longest days of the year
They gathered.


Many of them from here:
Aboriginal, Métis, French and English Canadians,
And many of them from the Dark Continent:
Ghanaian, Angolan, Somali, Zimbabuen

We were raising money for a drought and poverty-stricken
Hospital in Western Ghana, and doing it in style


To say the hall was filled to overflowing
Would not be an exaggeration—but the real
Fulfillment came from the sound ...

As a little-travelled Canadian white woman
My understanding of African drumming
Was pretty much limited to what I saw on TV


And in movies from Hollywood; even specials
On National Geographic did not do justice
To the splendour of real drumming
The likes of which we heard last night


First, one drummer would start and he alone
Would be powerful and loud and rhythmic
In ways that are hard to define,


but


Then another would do a counter-beat
And another would join in and layer his
Distinctive drum either on top or in step


Until sometimes as many as ten drummers
Were making this remarkable sound
All of them different and all the same
Transporting many of us to Africa or to dance


Or both


It was not hard to imagine being in the jungle
In the dark around a fire, hearing the beat
Of these drums playing long into the night,
Or maybe for several days or nights


So mesmerizing is the intensity of music
That is just drumming—and I do not mean
To diminish it in the least by saying ‘just’


In fact, just the opposite –that drums alone
Make such compelling music enthrals me
Thrills me, makes me want to move
As I noticed it did almost everyone
In attendance at this function


Yes, last night I heard Africa drumming
And began to understand her mystery
Just a little bit better and why
We need to keep trying with her;


Mama Africa, we hear you, we do


I found myself promising to try
Harder to help her and I will.