The Beat Goes On

Connect with your inner rhythms by joining a drum circle.

By: Jodi Thompson
   Learning a new language is challenging. But it is always rewarding, especially when unexpected. The last place I imagined I’d learn a new language was at a drum circle.
   Recently, I attended a monthly circle held in the Wycombe, Pa., house of Conrad and Jennifer Miller Kubiak. I invited my husband and our sons along to hide behind, should I either hate it or have no rhythm. Had I known it would involve learning a new language, I wouldn’t have been as concerned.
   Mr. Kubiak handed out his hand-made drums to people who didn’t bring their own. The drums were djembés, an African design that originated in the 12th century Mali Empire. The wooden bodies are goblet-shaped and open at the bottom to allow sound to escape. The head of the drum is covered in goat hide. The fur still remains around the rim.
   We learned to hold it correctly by wrapping our legs around the indented portion and tilting it so that it doesn’t rest flat on the floor.
   "What’s different about this drum from other drums is there’s three distinct sounds," Mr. Kubiak says. "You have three drums in one. You don’t have to have another drum to get the sounds."
   Mr. Kubiak learned the language of drums from Babatunde Olatunji, widely credited with bringing West African drumming to the United States in the 1960s.
   In a 1995 article in DRUM! magazine, Babatunde Olatunji tells interviewer Arthur Hull that he came to New Orleans via a cargo ship in 1950 to study at Morehouse College in Atlanta. Aboard ship, he drummed on a little hand drum each morning to amuse himself.
   The ship’s engineer admonished him, telling Babatunde Olatunji, "A strange man in a strange land shouldn’t sing a strange song."
   Babatunde Olatunji continued to be surprised at American misconceptions of Africa. He wanted us to realize the good that can come from Africa. He formed a dance and drum troupe to spread the word.
   After graduating from Morehouse, he brought his dance and drum troupe, Drums of Passion, to Harlem, and the group extensively toured the United States.
   Mr. Kubiak, through inspiration provided by master teacher Babatunde Olatunji, now speaks the language of the drum. Mr. Kubiak tells those gathered in his living room that Babatunde has named the three sounds the Djembe emits.
   The bass sound is produced by striking a little bit back from the center of the drum with the full of the hand, wrist locked. The lead hand, often the right, elicits the sound "goon," while the other hand is "doon."
   The tone sound comes from hitting the drum near the edge with your fingers from just below the first knuckle, up, again with locked wrists. This makes the "go" and "do" (rhymes with go) sounds.
   A slap produces "pa" and "ta" sounds when you hit just your fingertips, wrist loose, on the edge of the drum with a rolling slap. It’s the hardest of all the techniques to do correctly.
   "It took me six months to learn," Mr. Kubiak says. "So, if you don’t get it in the first five minutes, know that I took six months of trying and trying."
   Mr. Kubiak teaches us some basic rhythms. The first phrase is goon-go, do, do. The second is goon, go-do, go, do. He leads us in a call-and-response technique, practicing the phrases we’ve mastered, for the most part.
   Jennifer Miller Kubiak relates her own frustration in learning to drum when she was first dating her husband. "He said, ‘It’s okay. The drum will teach you. Just keep trying.’ Suddenly I did. I let go of being worried."
   Ms. Kubiak drums easily and expertly, simultaneously deriving energy and serenity from the process. I watch her carefully, following her lead. I soon settle into the rhythm, listening to Mr. Kubiak’s call and imitating Ms. Kubiak’s response. I think I’m getting it when Mr. Kubiak adds another requirement to complicate the procedure.
   "Remember to breathe," he says.
   We play the phrases separately and then put them together to form a sentence. We play that sentence in call and response, as well. Finally, we’re ready to play the sentence continuously.
   "It’s really important to communicate when you start to drum," Mr. Kubiak says. "When you first started to talk, you didn’t do Shakespeare. We’re developing a language, so we start with the basics. Goon, doon, go, do, pa and ta are the basics.
   "We’re building a language. When you’re actually at a fire circle, drumming with people for hours, you start to talk to people. You can understand each other."
   This evening, he’s teaching a graphic designer, customer-service supervisor, photographer, contractor, writer and two teen-agers with completely different personalities and interests. Mr. Kubiak is a corporate-world dropout with degrees in Irish literature, biology and computer electronics. He is a Shiatsu, Reiki and Feng Shui practitioner, makes drums and didgeridoos (an aboriginal instrument) and also leads workshops in corporate team-building. He hopes to spread the common language of sound and movement.
   "We all have natural rhythms, such as our heartbeat, breathing rhythms and circadian rhythms," Mr. Kubiak says. "Our technological society has moved us away from the rhythms of the earth.
   "Drumming is retro-technology, a right-brain computer. It allows us to connect with that more primitive side of ourselves, reconnect with our heartbeat. It helps us remember. I truly believe the things we’ve forgotten are every bit as important, if not more important, as what technology can teach us."
   The somewhat diverse group around him finally speaks the same language. While Ms. Kubiak reproduces the steady heartbeat on two similar drums, a large djun-djun and a smaller ken-keni, we each play the set beats we’ve learned. Creative souls vary the sound with their own rhythms before falling back into the set patterns again. We talk across the room and to those next to us. Occasionally, we drift into a conversation inside ourselves. It’s therapeutic, relaxing, invigorating.
   The circle of beginner and advanced drummers comes to an end after hearing the "break," a pattern Mr. Kubiak tells us ends the song. We are briefly silent and then break into peals of spontaneous laughter.
   You can’t help but feel good after a drum circle. My thumbs are red and sore because I’m unable to heed Mr. Kubiak’s advice to keep them up from the wooden rim of the drum on "go" and "do," but I don’t even mind that. We’ve all enjoyed the evening.
   Babatunde Olatunji once said the spirit of the drum makes you say to yourself, "Yes, I’m glad to be alive today. I’m glad I’m here. I’m glad I’m part of this world."
   These are sentiments we can all embrace in uncertain times. Learning to communicate and speak a universal language can only help.
   "Mainly it’s just fun," Mr. Kubiak says. "From start to end, there’s a total different expression (on the faces of those in the circle.) There’s an excitement, a tension release, a healing."
Spirit in the Wood Drumming Circle is held in the Kubiaks’ home in Wycombe, Pa., on third Fridays at 7 p.m. Drums will be available, or bring your own. Bring refreshments to share with the group. To confirm each date and time, call (215) 598-0188. Mr. Kubiak makes ashikos, djembés, cajóns, djun-djuns and didgeridoos. He also leads group workshops, seminars and develops outreach programs on communication, group dynamics and cultural appreciation. Call to confirm prices and availability.