The Beating of the Drums

As I climbed steadily uphill along the dusty, rutted outback gravel road, I could hear a sound in the distance like the rumble of thunder.

On this warm spring day I paused to survey my surroundings, seeking shelter from the sun's heat beneath a shady tree, whilst searching along the horizon for the approach of dark storm clouds, but none were visible.

What could be making the noise I wondered, as I heard it again? I decided to continue on to try and unravel the mystery.

I came to a farming property through which I had to pass along a specially marked walking trail. I negotiated the fence by climbing a strategically placed ladder and walked along a pathway through a fruit orchard and vegetable and herb garden. I could hear the loud croaking of frogs in a nearby waterhole.

A cloud of white butterfly's rose as I brushed past a cabbage plant and Bee's could be heard busy gathering nectar from a nearby flowering gum.

The farmyard scene was enhanced by the presence of a proud, colourful Rooster strutting about amongst plants in the paddock. Hopefully they would reach the safety of their enclosure before nightfall as I caught a glimpse of a marauding fox watching from the cover of nearby bushes.

Boom, boom, rattle, shake, boom, boom, shake, boom, the sound became louder and more distinct. As I approached a clump of bushes I moved forward stealthily, hoping not to attract attention whilst I listened to the cacophony of sounds.

I could hear singing and chanting in a foreign tongue and was intrigued! As I pushed my way through the undergrowth I was confronted by a group of men, women and children seated in a circle and facing inwards and they each had a colourful African Drum made from wood, rope and animal skins on which they were beating with great energy and enthusiasm.

I stopped, enchanted by the colourful scene before me, an unusual sight in this Australian bushland setting!

Performers moved in time to the rhythm of the drums concentrating and with rapped expressions on their faces, lost within the drama of the stories they were enacting.

The African songs and chanting explained the unusual sounds I had heard from afar.
One woman, sensing my presence turned around and beckoned me to go forward and sit with them.

Soon I too was participating in the movement and words of Jay, Jay Coolie, a song of celebration of the connection between people and all of nature. This was a subject close to my own heart and inner being, where the words and actions transported me to a place of peace and tranquillity as daily troubles shed and frustrations were driven from my mind by the movement and expression of my hands and feet as I tapped in time to the Beat of the Drums.