The Stealing of the Drums
Print this Page- Country: Ghana
Many years ago, there lived a strong and noble warrior. One day, as the warrior was racing through the jungle, following the tracks of a sleek and golden cat, he heard strange sounds. Forgetting the cat, he stopped. Never had he heard such beautiful rhythms. Entranced by the music, he turned and moved toward the direction of the sound.
Led by the music, the warrior crossed creeks, climbed over rocks, and swung through vines. With each step, the sound became louder and more frenetic. Finally, he spotted a clearing. The music, he knew, was coming from there. Hiding behind a nearby tree, the hunter stood in amazement and watched.
There, before him, a lion was swinging his wild red mane and beating what seemed to be a magical gourd. With every tap on the gourd, the lion created a rhythm that exploded in the night air like the heartbeats of heaven.
And animals were dancing in a frenzy!
An elephant was dancing with a hippo. A crocodile was swinging a python around his tail. A warthog was hopping beside a jigging baboon. An eland and a bush cow were nuzzling cheek-to-cheek. A grouse was strutting around a jumping guinea fowl.
From behind the tree, the warrior tapped his toes. He wanted desperately to join in the dance, but he dared not disturb such mighty beasts. As darkness fell, the warrior left the dancing animals and returned to his village. When he arrived home, he found the villagers gathered around a bonfire. The women were crying: It was very late—the warrior was not expected to be out in the jungle for so long—and they believed he had been killed.
"There he is!" cried a young boy, as he saw the warrior approaching through the smoky haze. The villagers rushed upon him, hugging him.
"We feared we had lost you," said the village chief. "What kept you for so long?" The warrior told them of the dancing animals, the magical gourd, and the rhythm that captured the heartbeats of heaven.
Hearing this, the people drew back.
"You lie!" said the chief angrily. "Do you expect us to believe your story? What have you been up to?" But the warrior repeated his story, saying, "It is true. What I tell you is true."
"Go. Leave this village!" ordered the chief. "You are not worthy to live among us. We are an honest tribe. Go into the jungle with your dancing animals!"
"Go!" shouted the villagers in chorus. Then they drew their clubs and chased the warrior back into the jungle.
Alone in the jungle, the warrior sat down beside a banana tree and tried to ignore the laugh of the hyenas and the squeals of the baboons. Although he was a fearless warrior in the light of day, he was not so fearless at night. "Was this day just a dream?" the warrior wondered to himself as he drifted off to sleep. "How could so much change in just one day?"
When the sun rose the next morning, the warrior traveled back to the clearing where he had seen the animals. They had been dancing all night. The warrior peeked once again from behind the tree.
"If only I had those magical gourds, the villagers would believe me," he thought. Then he had an idea. He burst from behind the tree screaming a war song and charged straight for the mighty lion. He tore the magic gourd from the lion's grip and raced back down the trail.
He ran all the way back to his village. He was so exhausted that he fell down to the ground. The people of the village gathered around the warrior, staring at the strange-looking gourd. Gradually, the warrior regained his breath and stood up.
"This, friends," he announced, holding the gourd in his hands, "is what I shall call a drum."
Turning to a young boy, he ordered. "Bring me some palm wine!"
Within moments, the young boy came back with a bowl of palm wine. The warrior then poured some wine on the ground—spilling much more than tradition called for—as an offering to the ancestors.
The warrior tapped the drum lightly and liked what he heard. He tapped harder, and the people liked what they heard. The hunter then beat the drum with the frenzy of the lion.
And the people went wild!
Day and night they danced, barely stopping to eat or sleep. They danced when they were happy, and they danced when they were sad. They danced when they were at war, and they danced when they were at peace. They danced when they were angry, and they danced when they were in love....
In fact, they are dancing even now.
^ Back to TopAbout the Author:
"The Stealing of the Drums" is told by William H. Peck (Peace Corps Volunteer, Ghana, 1984–1986). "After installing a new water pump in a neighboring village, my wife and I visited the village of Nsawkaw," says William. "There, the chief of the village, Nana Twum Barima, invited us to attend a festival commemorating the 'stealing of the drums from the animals.' He then told us the story upon which 'Stealing of the Drums' is based." "'Stealing of the Drums' illustrates the reverence that Ghanaians have for drums," William adds. "They believe that drums are magical."