No Bongos

There’s no tapping allowed here
And this ain’t no bongo.

The music begins
Heartfelt sound evoked with memories
Of ancestors rippling out,
Spreading feelings of community.
Music passed from teachers to students for centuries
Teaches something new today.

The music speaks to a deep place,
An ancient place,
More a memory than something that can be learned
People with family spread wide
Find entry into the family of drummers,
Where there are no borders, where skin color doesn’t matter,
Where wealth can’t buy
Rhythm from the heart,
Where the only currency that matters
Is honesty, courage, humility
And the willingness to serve communities waiting to be born.
The occasional tasty solo works pretty well, too.

The music begins, dunduns laying down the ancestor’s truth,
Djembes supporting,
The lead drummer dancing and sparring in the
Rhythmic landscape –
Slaps ringing out like a forge hammer,
Basses rumbling in the bones.
Everyone has a place, an opportunity to speak their truth and joy.
And when it’s right, they will dance.

There’s no tapping allowed here
And this ain’t no bongo.

—Tom Harris