Teeth were brushed. Coffee was hurriedly poured into a travel mug. Keys, wallet, phone - check. We hit the road at seven. Three hours later we arrived at a lovely six acre ranch on top of a ridge in Mendocino county. The doors of a barn opened up to a veritable paradise. There were djembes everywhere. Big ones, smalls ones, new ones, old ones. Thousands of them in all shapes and sizes. We went through another set of doors into a much smaller workshop where we saw ropes and heads (drum heads that is!), pliers, hammers, jars of lanolin. The room smelled of wood and sweat and work and Mother Nature did her best to perfume the workroom from outside.
We spoke with a craftsmen, businessman and drummer for a few hours. We talked about drummers we knew. We talked about drumming styles. We shared a beer or two. We pulled djembe shells, grabbed ropes and tuned heads. Some of these drums were going across the country to circles we would never know about. A few of them were coming back with us as we have folks that were just aching to play their new drums. We'll be seeing these drums again and again in circles, at rituals, at gatherings in the neighborhood.
There is something incredible about hand drums. They are carved by hand (the good ones anyway), tuned by hand, rubbed down and made smooth by hand and played by hand. There is real magic in that - knowing what it takes to create a drum. Realizing that someone will place their hands on it and coax the drum to sing its song.
1 comment:
Well-used workshops are always a treat to visit. Sounds like you all had some good fun. Playing hand made instruments, and getting to visit the place they were crafted—talk about cool. Thanks for the peek behind the scenes, and happy drumming. [=
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