No Words

I am a verbal person. Part of how I perceive the world is through language. I see and respond and describe. It is how I am in the world.

When I first started studying with Sidy, I loved it best when he would tell us things. He'd talk about the meaning of a song, where it fit into his culture, when it was played. I hung on every word. He could show me a part over and over, but what I would remember, later, at home, was his voice telling me

"Tone tone, slap slap slap."

In my mind, I would hear his words, his voice, his accent, while I grappled with a new part. I knew that the traditional way to teach did not involve telling... but was happy that Sidy adjusted his teaching for us.

In Mali, something changed.

I worked with a teacher who didn't use language to teach the drum. He taught by showing. No words at all. No facial expressions, even. Just the drum itself... and his hands. He'd play a part until I got it, then move on to the next piece. It was a rhythm unbroken by the appelle, seemlessly flowing from solo phrase to solo phrase, one into another. He'd announce the transition by emphasizing his hand position so I knew it was time to change. No words. At the end of the first day, I felt drunk with excitement. I really had no idea how my teacher felt... but I knew that something had clicked for me, in just that hour.

Yesterday, Sidy came to my lesson and we hardly talked at all. He said the name of the rhythm... but really, I would have known just by the break. We played, working over the pieces I have been learning. Then, a new one. No words, just showing me... first at regular speed, then slowly. Then bit by bit because I needed it broken down.

Then, I could play it.

No words. Just the drum. What joy.

Mazé's drum

I came back from Mali with a drum that belonged to one of my teachers.

I hadn't intended to buy a djembe. When I went to Mali, I thought I'd pick up a sangban or kenkeni. But after playing on cowskin a couple of times, it seemed to make sense to get another djembe to reskin with cowhide.

So given the choice of all the djembes in Mali, Sidy asked which I wanted and I selected Mazé's. No problem. I paid a reasonable price, Mazé got a brandy new one and I brought home a well loved, well played beauty with a dusty old goatskin and green ropes.

Yesterday the head popped. I was sitting in my office. The drum was in a bag next to my desk. Suddenly I heard a popping sound and panicked for just a moment wondering which drum it was. (I absolutely adore the skin on my goatskin djembe and it will be a sad day when that one breaks.)

But no. Luck was with me and it was the djembe I was intending to reskin anyway.

I spent the morning taking the drum apart. At first I was planning to keep all the ropes, but as I stripped the drum, I decided it would be lovely to really take it down to the bare rings and start from scratch. This is my own drum. It is a beautiful, heavy, round Malian djembe... and it will be great fun to rebuild it. The top of the bowl has a few cracks, so those will be repaired. The outside of the bowl is scratched from years of tunings, so I am going to lightly sand the exterior and oil it.

The rings are brutishly thick rebar which seems to be in great shape, so I will wrap them in fabric and make a new rope harness, at least on the top ring. Then I am going to get some new green rope to string the verticals. I have a cowskin coming from Mali later this month, which Sidy will help me mount.

I am excited because, while I have rebuilt drums before, I have never done one of my own. And the fact that this drum holds some of the spirit of one of my teachers makes it all the more of a joy to work on.

New Rhythms

In Mali I worked on Suku, Dansa and Maraka.

Today I started learning Koreduga. The timing on it is kicking my sorry ass.

I can also play the accompaniments and some solo phrases from Mendiani, Madan, Sounou, Sidiyasa, and Wassolonka.

Ok, I just have to say it

I love the shape of Mali drums best of all. Guinea drums are beautiful, it's true, but there is something so wonderful and luscious about the big round bowl of a Mali drum. I especially love to see them naked, without ropes or skins or even rings... just the wooden shell in all it's sculptural, curvy beauty.

There, I said it. I hope to get some good photos of shells while I am in Mali. I'll post them here when I get back.

Mali Bound

It's official. I have my tickets, got my shots, and am heading to Mali in January.

So, here's the scoop so far:

Tickets via Royal Air Maroc. We fly through Casablanca with a 15 hour layover... but will be put up in a hotel for the time we are there.

Shots:
Yellow fever
Polio booster
Regular flu shot
Meningitis

Last year I got Hep A and Typhoid, so they are still good.

I also have a prescription for anti-malarial drugs, Cipro for diarrhea and Ambien to sleep on the plane and help with jet lag.

Travel insurance: Check.

Still to do:
Register with the US Embassy.
Pack.
Get some gifts for Sidy's parents.
Arrange for the Visa with the Malian embassy in NY.

I am flying with a couple of other students. We have a few folks planning to join us in Mali. Sidy is going to meet us at the airport and that is a moment I am really excited about, stepping off a plane into the warm Malian night and finding my teacher standing there waiting for us. What a scene.

Allons y!

New piece

The beginnings of another solo part to Mendiani. LOVE it!

tttsssssssss, tttsssssssss, tttsssssssss, tttsssssssss, tsstsstsstsstsstsstsstss...........

Or something like that, LOL.

We'll see where this goes. The funny thing is I didn't really understand the underlying structure of Mendiani until I started playing this... and then suddenly, like a lightbulb, it went off. I wonder if it will help me play the rest of the solo parts better. I'll keep you posted.

My Hands

My hands are changing.

Where once was soft, smooth skin, now strength.

Callouses. Suddenly the creases in my palm are so pronounced I think a palmreader could read them blindfolded, just by touch.

From the top they look like ordinary hands. Long thin fingers. Nails painted. You might wonder where my rings are.

But turn them over and you know.

These are the hands of a drummer.

Because I am six at heart

I have been sitting in on Sidy's children's class because I open the church for him. Lately there has only been one student... but that little boy has been very dedicated. He practices every day and comes in excited every week. He is six.

This little boy is very cute when he plays. He tells Sidy how easy drumming is, even when he is struggling to get a new rhythm. Sometimes he cries when it is too hard. Often he has a little swagger and it is clear that he is itching to solo.

The other night I told Sidy I was just like that little boy. I get cocky. I get taken down a notch and cry. And I really really LOVE to play those drums.

Back with, well, a bang

I was in Nova Scotia for a week with the family. I brought a drum for practicing, but since we were in a tiny cabin, wedged in next to other tiny cabins, I couldn't really practice much. Only once, when the weather was dry, was I able to take the drum to the beach and find a rock to sit on and play for awhile.

It is amazing how much I was jonesing. I don't think I realized how much playing has become part of my life.

When I got back, I jumped back into class with great enthusiasm. I felt like I was playing better than I had for a long time. Maybe the time off was good.

Yesterday I went to see my teacher and his uncle, Issa Coulibaly, play at a park in Providence. They played with a couple of his uncle's students. It was really interesting. I had never actually seen my teacher perform with another Malian player before. They obviously play together pretty frequently because they are very tight together. Issa was on the dun duns and Sidy was playing solo djembe. The two students were playing accompaniment.

Issa soloed quite a bit on the dun duns. Clearly he is an excellent player. It was fun to hear how he worked the rhythm, holding the main rhythm for the rest of the players while simultaneously moving around within it.

I learned something from watching the students, too. One of them seemed to be struggling a little bit. Frankly, I couldn't hear any big errors, but he had a bit of a 'deer in the headlights' look about him that betrayed his nervousness. I realized that I probably look exactly like that when I play with Sidy, LOL. It suddenly became clear what Sidy is talking about when he says he would rather have me make mistakes than be nervous. I need to learn to relax and have a good time, even when I am making mistakes. And for God's sake, I have to remember to smile even if I am bombing!

And of course, watching Sidy play was amazing. I especially liked it when he stood up and played with the dancer. They faced off and had a great time together. He was speeding up and she was matching his pace. They seemed to move back and forth in a beautiful give and take. It was wonderful to watch.

What a treat to come home to!

Accompaniment

Last weekend I asked my teacher if I could play the accompaniment parts for class, rather than work on the solos. I did this for a couple of reasons. First, it seems that the accompaniment is always the part that gives me the most trouble, especially if I am having a hard time hearing how it meshes with the dun duns. Second, I wanted to take a step back and just work on listening to whole rhythm working together. And finally, I always play accompaniment when I go to gigs with Sidy, so I wanted to work on them a bit.

What a great experience. It was awesome hearing all the parts layered together, and wonderful to be a part of the rhythm section with my friend Lisa. I found myself sliding off the beat a couple of times, but was able to find my way back to her. I loved being able to speed up and slow down, too.

At Monday's class we did the same thing. I accompaniment for awhile before getting back to the solo parts. I left feeling much better.

Back to basics. Good stuff.