Thoughts and imaginations of my ancestors pour in like heavy rain. The different sounds they produce: sweet melody like a lullaby, sometimes ear-splitting beats like thunder during a stormy night play in my head.
I could not help but touch them. The smooth wooden ends, finely tuned with beautiful decorations remind me of the beaded necklaces my mom used to never leave the house without during traditional ceremonies at a relative.
The rough side surfaces remind me of the traditional attire women at the villages wear during traditional ceremonies. The smooth edges are a contrast of the sides that I just felt; they contain a smooth, fury and soft animal feel. Like a calf’s skin the softness of the fur tells just how well they are taken care of.
Slowly moving my hand, enjoying the softness I feel some sort of coarseness and I realise I have reached the top. This is where the melody comes out, where the converse with the ancestors emerges. With my hands I give one a pat and it shouts back a sound, I hit it harder and a rather noisy sound evolves and then I realise: this is it where the African beat comes from.
By: Sesethu Malgas