(no subject)
Gankogui, Azatse, Kaganu, Kidi, Kloboto, Totodzi
Bells, rattles, and drums
So
He's already picked someone to play the Gankogui, two-pitched cowbell, and though the chap seems to be pushing seven feet tall, he plays music with a decent sense of rhythm- quite necessary for the percussion ensemble of the Ewe people we are about to create. Two more volunteers learn the Azatse, the rattles. The parts are difficult, but sound absolutely harmonious together.
I was saving myself for the drums. The Kaganu. Another young man was eager to play that one. He gripped his sticks like balloon strings, afraid that they might float away from him. He clutched the drum between his knees in similar fashion, as an oblivious child would hold a baby chick and not realize that it can't breath. His elbows flap about like chicken wings, neck out, head down. He is trying to eat his drum. He cannot figure out why the sticks don't hit the drum top.
I raise my hand for the Kidi. With all the flute and soprano parts I have played, I am surprised that among all the people who have their hands raised, I am now the minority, which is why I get the part.
"Let's have a woman drummer too."
Aware that that I am now the easiest target for eyes, I slow my pace, and slide behind the drum. The director is surprised that I pick up the rhythm with ease. I hold the sticks as delicate spears. The cannibal does not realize that a the assassin does not ever smack his target, for it would be deflected with a jolt. No, she will slash, strike. Pounce.
TA. dum dum DUM. ta ta TA. dum dum DUM. ta ta TA
It just goes, in circles. The syncopation echos in my ears and I lurch with every beat. Soon it becomes a heart beat, and amidst all those staring down into their instruments, I am able to raise my head, relax it against my neck, and play forward. And we just play in circles.
TA. dum dum DUM. ta ta TA. dum dum DUM. ta ta TA.dum dum DUM. ta ta TA. dum dum DUM. ta ta TA.dum dum DUM. ta ta TA. dum dum DUM. ta ta TA. dum dum DUM. ta ta TA. dum dum DUM. ta ta TA. dum dum DUM. ta ta TA. dum dum DUM. ta ta TA.
After, someone asked me if I have played percussion,
No :)
And then I spend the evening with angels. Sweet relief of familiarity, and a rich hot meal.
Perfect. Perfect.
Loved.
Bells, rattles, and drums
So
He's already picked someone to play the Gankogui, two-pitched cowbell, and though the chap seems to be pushing seven feet tall, he plays music with a decent sense of rhythm- quite necessary for the percussion ensemble of the Ewe people we are about to create. Two more volunteers learn the Azatse, the rattles. The parts are difficult, but sound absolutely harmonious together.
I was saving myself for the drums. The Kaganu. Another young man was eager to play that one. He gripped his sticks like balloon strings, afraid that they might float away from him. He clutched the drum between his knees in similar fashion, as an oblivious child would hold a baby chick and not realize that it can't breath. His elbows flap about like chicken wings, neck out, head down. He is trying to eat his drum. He cannot figure out why the sticks don't hit the drum top.
I raise my hand for the Kidi. With all the flute and soprano parts I have played, I am surprised that among all the people who have their hands raised, I am now the minority, which is why I get the part.
"Let's have a woman drummer too."
Aware that that I am now the easiest target for eyes, I slow my pace, and slide behind the drum. The director is surprised that I pick up the rhythm with ease. I hold the sticks as delicate spears. The cannibal does not realize that a the assassin does not ever smack his target, for it would be deflected with a jolt. No, she will slash, strike. Pounce.
TA. dum dum DUM. ta ta TA. dum dum DUM. ta ta TA
It just goes, in circles. The syncopation echos in my ears and I lurch with every beat. Soon it becomes a heart beat, and amidst all those staring down into their instruments, I am able to raise my head, relax it against my neck, and play forward. And we just play in circles.
TA. dum dum DUM. ta ta TA. dum dum DUM. ta ta TA.dum dum DUM. ta ta TA. dum dum DUM. ta ta TA.dum dum DUM. ta ta TA. dum dum DUM. ta ta TA. dum dum DUM. ta ta TA. dum dum DUM. ta ta TA. dum dum DUM. ta ta TA. dum dum DUM. ta ta TA.
After, someone asked me if I have played percussion,
No :)
And then I spend the evening with angels. Sweet relief of familiarity, and a rich hot meal.
Perfect. Perfect.
Loved.