20 Years after Africa

My account of the trip that changed me forever

July 7-August 1991

I literally kissed the ground when I got off the plane in Dakar, Senegal. So many months of saving money, planning details and wild expectations had finally come to fruition. As a drummer, I had come to believe that Africa would take me down a rhythmic ride that would propel me into a new sense of belonging, a new sense of understanding. I was not to be disappointed. Everything about that day seemed new: the smell of the air, the flies, the colorful dress, the lines of beggars at the airport, the languages, and the people themselves. I was overcome with excitement. Why had I come to Africa?

I’m not sure what I expected but the experience was certainly different. Dakar was a modern city. Any images of people in the bush in loin clothes had been created by TV or some other stereotype. But there were more important discoveries. These people lived with passion. Many had music of in their daily lives, in the communities’ right where they lived. This was the most beautiful thing that I saw. Weekly, on Sunday afternoon, each neighborhood (every two or three streets) would have a kids dance on the street. A group of Sabar drummers would line up and the mothers would usher up their children 5-10 at time. They would dance for a minute or two and then a new group would come up. This would go on all afternoon. Then they would take a dinner break. A night the adults would return, dressed in their Sunday finest. They would then dance, sing and play in the same manner till late in the evening. To this day it was some the most amazing music that I have ever heard. Sabar is a family of traditional drums found in Senegal, played with one hand and one stick. They are quite loud and can be heard over long distances, thus their use of communicating between villages.

I saw many other things – a pink lake, with such heavy amounts of salt in the water that men would be covered when they came out of the lake. Large piles waited nearby for the trains to carry the salt away. Nearby was an herbal hospital. They treated everything from lepers to Aids. Our tour there was lead by a doctor with a lot of hope even in such a sad place.

Hope was big on the agenda. Everywhere I went, even in the poorest places, people would smile at you like you were their long lost relative. You could literally walk into the front door of someone’s hut and they would greet you like they had been waiting all day to see you. Most of the time, they would invite you to dinner as well. At the time, I was a vegetarian. However, when a family would have me over for dinner, I would eat whatever they served. You see, they had gone to market that morning, many miles away. They would buy food at great expense for their budget and prepare it all afternoon. Then they have me as a guest and serve it in the evening. I would have offended them had I not eaten what they offered. Meat was a luxury and they had gone to great effort to provide it. I got over myself and eat with thankfulness.

The music was why I really wanted to go. At every turn, I heard or saw things that stretched my mind and stirred my emotions. There was the Fulani trope with 50 yards of cloth in each pair of pants. They played hypnotizing, flute music with an incessant rhythm played on gourds. There was the fire eater who also could run fire over his entire body without getting burned. The Fulani music in the background added to the suspense. There were the contortionists; some people were brought out in trunks, accompanied by bougarabou drums, a set of elongated goblet, on a stand, played in sets of 3-5 drums. They are very tonal in nature. A man in a small trunk would slowly unwind out of it. How did he ever fit in a space so small!

A few times I saw Katiero drummers. 3 different sized drums, also played with one hand and one stick like Sabar drums. These were smaller elongated drums that are carried and much lighter than Saber, thus quieter. Beautiful, intricate rhythms with the lilting sound of rhythms done with a stick and hand. They were accompanied with dancing and singing. It was one of many small afternoon parties where the musicians were bathed in money. They would put bills on their foreheads, shoulders and arms while the musicians where playing. We should try that here in the US! Unfortunately, you rarely see these types of drums here and I think they are getting even rarer in West Africa.

Why don’t we see them and other drums here in the US? As one friend put it, now it’s all about the djembe! Even though the djembe didn’t originate in Senegal or The Gambia, it is still a huge part of the culture. These are different than most other drums in Africa. One primary difference is the high tension rope tuning system. These heads are tighter than drums with a less complex tuning system. These drums speak loud, with passion. They can be heard far away, especially on a moonless night, in a land where there are few street lights and you are left to ponder there significance in the darkness. They could know your name in the next village before you get there from the language of the drum. Fire, passion, energy with the joy of dance and song – that is what the djembe is about.

So the djembe is where my love affair with African drumming started in 1987. When I walked into a Chuck Davis class at Watts Street School one evening, the sound of the drums hit me – hard! I had to learn this music. I had to learn this drum. At that time, I had a master’s degree in percussion. At the moment that I heard those drummers, I felt that I wasn’t a master of anything. So my education started all over again with Djembefola Khalid Saleem. He started me like a beginner and slowly, thoroughly guided me through the rhythm patterns that are the core of West African rhythms. I also learned dun-dun, congas and shekere. I learned how to feel the music. That is the most important part and it can only be learned by doing and listening – over and over again!

By the time I got to Africa, I felt that I knew just enough to understand what was being taught to me there. Without Khalid, the trip, my life, everything, would have gone right over my head.

What Khalid gave to me was not only djembe lessons but a way to live my life. Peace and Blessings are in his every greeting. And so it became with me. My life’s work must embrace peace and the blessings that we receive everyday we are on the planet. All along with the music and rhythm that makes me know I am alive! I think the creator everyday for the blessings of this teaching.

I am so thankful for that day that heard those drums. There would have been no trip to Africa, no break from traditional percussion, no wonderful meeting the hundreds of people that I have meet through the drum, no Khalid, a very different journey on this planet. In short, my life would have been drastically different – and incomplete!

20 years ago changed my life in ways that are impossible to explain. May we all just keep following the rhythm of our heart and I am sure it lead to place where we belong. Yes, I’m sure.

In shaa'Allah,

Jim Roberts