Awaken ancient memories that drift silently between drumbeats.
Let them finally be told.
—Cornelius Pinty
Chapters:
Neewa Takes a Ride
Remember the first hunters with their primitive, hunting weapons—long deadly spears carved from the thick branches of ancient hardwood trees—spearheads chiseled from long, pointed rocks—fastened together with strips of crude rawhide.
The men of the tribe prepared long hours for their hunts. The animals they hunted were very large, much bigger than a man was. They hunted saber-toothed tigers and giant wooly mammoths. The hunt was like a game, but a game that they could not afford to lose. These large beasts could easily make a meal out of a careless hunter.
The men of the tribe hunted as a group, helping each other bring down these large animals. Each hunter had a special job that had to be coordinated with the other hunters. Some of the hunters were assigned to scare the beast, so it would run towards the other hunters. These hunters waited with their weapons for the approaching animal. It was everyone’s job to scout for animals. They looked for footprints, broken branches, and other signs that the prey was nearby.
One of the hunters jumped up and down as he pointed towards the ground. “A wooly mammoth was just here. Look at these tracks! These footprints are fresh!”
Indeed, the mammoth walked along this wooded path every day, working its way towards the fast-moving stream. The elephant-like creature was attracted to the rhythm patterns of the stream. Everyday, the hairy animal was compelled to saunter towards the sound of the splashing water patterns. As the stream got louder and closer, the wooly beast grew excited.
Down a steep ravine he would amble, eagerly following the well-worn path as it weaved back and forth to the bottom. He lumbered along with his huge shoulders, shifting his weight back and forth from tree trunk-like leg to leg. Each of its giant steps was like marching to a very slow but steady beat, in sync with the splashing rhythms that lured him closer.
Once the mammoth reached the stream, it raised its huge, wrinkled trunk between its twisted, ivory tusks into the air. The wild beast offered a trumpeting salute to the stream and the spirit that gave the water its rhythms. Bending one hairy leg at a time, the beast knelt before the streambed, almost as if it were praying. After this daily ritual, the mammoth dipped its long trunk into the stream and sipped the cold water before squirting it into his thirsty mouth.
The people at that time did not understand rhythm. They knew that the giant mammoth followed the path often, but they did not realize that the beast followed the same path to the stream at the same time every day. So it was only by chance one day that the hunters spotted the mammoth.
They made a plan to kill the shaggy animal. Six hunters with spears would quietly sneak behind the beast and hide. When they were in place, the others would make loud noises that would scare the mammoth. The frightened beast should run towards the hunters who waited with their deadly spears.
The six hunters were quietly creeping in a wide circle, trying to sneak behind the hairy mammoth unnoticed. However, the others misjudged how long it would take for the six hunters to get where they needed to be. They started yelling too soon. The frightened beast ran away from the yelling hunters, and ferociously charged towards the six hunters who weren’t ready.
The terrified hunters tried to scatter out of the beast’s way. Confused and uncoordinated, they bumped into each other, tumbling to the ground in all directions. One of the hunters, Neewa, misjudged just how quickly the mammoth was running. He realized that within seconds he was going to be trampled by the beast.
Neewa was an older boy, just barely a man, with dark brown hair that pointed and curled in every direction. This was his first hunt, and suddenly he realized it might be his only.
He stood frozen in place; his knees locked together like a nutcracker. The mammoth, its head and trunk pointing down, charged forward. Without thinking, Neewa grabbed onto the hairy nose of the beast. The mammoth, quite startled, flung his giant snoot into the air while Neewa held on for dear life. He could smell the hot steamy breath of the beast as he felt the hot, foul-smelling air blowing up and down his spine. Neewa whirled through the air like he was riding a hairy snake. Finally, with a quick whip-like snap, the mammoth flung the hunter into the sky. Neewa landed in a treetop.
Neewa felt lucky to be alive, but he was also disappointed. “This is another day without any food to bring home to the village,” he thought.
Neewa and the other hunters were frustrated. They always hunted in such a way that the prey had the advantage. The hunting groups were unable to rely upon each other to work together for their common goal. The rhythm of the hunt did not exist. They could not coordinate their efforts.
Their lack of rhythm hurt them in other ways as well. The seasons kept their rhythm, but the people of the time could not sense the patterns, nor take advantage of the cycles of the seasons. Planters would start their crops too early in spring, and many times they watched as late snows and early frosts bit away at their harvest.
Such were the times when even a small bounty was celebrated, and the smallest success with the hunt was rewarded with joy and festivity. When a few fish were caught, everyone gathered around for their small share. Even bringing home a small porcupine was a big happening. But the parties were celebrated quietly, since hunger was only a threateningly short time away.
*****
The Broken Rule
The following day, Neewa was sitting by the same amusing stream that the giant mammoth enjoyed every day. He reflected on yesterday’s hunt and how he almost was killed.
Neewa lay down in a clump of tall, bright green grass that grew next to the bank of the stream. He relaxed and became more comfortable. While listening to the stream, he began to hear a pattern within the flow of the water. As the water trickled over a rock, Neewa could hear a dripping sound that repeated over and over. As he listened to this sound, Neewa drifted into a dreamy sleep that was deeper than any other he had before. This dream-state was inspired by Sola, the goddess of the stream.
Sola was a lonely spirit who flowed along her stream, back and forth. She was a part of the stream, and in the water, she found ways to entertain herself. How clever she was, and how well she knew her stream. Sola would cause the water to churn with exciting, rhythmic patterns. She coaxed each pool of water in her stream to offer a different rhythm. She loved to create these rhythm songs that could be as smooth as the glass-like surface of her water, or as wild as the turbulent falls of the whitewater cascades further downstream. From a little brook that just tinkled and babbled at her beginning, Sola, the Rhythm Maiden, would create the loveliest patterns of joy and friendliness.
People from the village often passed the streambed. However, they never noticed the Rhythm Maiden. Occasionally someone would glance at the water a certain way, out of the corner of their eye. Then, for an instant, like a flash, they might suspect they saw a woman flowing within the stream.
The Rhythm Maiden’s hair was silver and black. It curled and tumbled like a waterfall. Her angel-like hair waved and flowed as part of the stream. Sometimes what appeared to be a large stone in the middle of the stream was actually the goddess sunning herself and enjoying her rhythmic waters. Her earthen-colored gown blended perfectly with the smooth river rock.
So Sola, having heard Neewa’s frustrations, felt sorry for him. Although she knew that she was not supposed to do this, Sola invited the boy to enjoy her rhythmic composition. While in his deep sleep, Sola took Neewa by his hand, and drifted him delightfully up and down the waterway. So proud of her creation she was, and so eager to share the rhythms and patterns with Neewa. Spontaneously, the frogs and the crickets began dancing together to the lively rhythms of the stream. It was truly a dance party, and all of the river animals became a part of the festival.
When the dance was finally over, all of the animals were tired and happy and went on their way. Neewa understood what he was being shown, and he enjoyed every rhythm pattern that Sola and Neewa drifted towards. The boy realized that these rhythms were the secret patterns that all the animals and plants used to communicate. But his people just ignored these rhythms. They didn’t know they existed.
This revelation startled and awakened Neewa, tearing him away from Sola’s spell. He jumped to his feet and began running to his village, never saying thank you or goodbye to Sola.
Sola was just as startled with Neewa’s abrupt exit. At first she felt hurt. But as she thought about what she had done, she became angry with herself. She scolded herself. “I broke a sacred rule of the forest because I was lonely and felt sorry for the boy, Neewa. The spirit kingdom forbids me to give rhythm to the people. I was boastful about my stream. Also because of my foolish pride, I revealed one of our dearest secrets!”
As Neewa made his way back to the village, he grew a little tired from the long walk, so he stopped to rest under a tall pine tree. He heard a tapping sound on the tree where he rested his head. When he looked up, Neewa saw a frisky little woodpecker holding sideways onto the trunk of the tree. The bird was banging its head against the tree with all of its might. As Neewa listened more carefully, he was able to find the woodpecker’s own special rhythm.
Nocka-nock-nock-nock
Nocka-nocka-nocka-nock
Later that day, Neewa finally arrived home to his village. He immediately approached the tribal chieftain who always found time to listen to his people. The wise, older man was tall with dark brown skin. His hair was mixed with gray and so was his thick, straggly beard. He kept his long, wild hair away from his eyes with a thick headband made of animal fur.
Neewa told his story to the chieftain. “I fell asleep by the stream—the one that is down the deep ravine. Although, I’m not sure I really was asleep.
“Sola, the goddess of the stream, appeared to me. She showed me a wonderful new sense—like seeing and hearing. It’s a whole different way of experiencing the world called rhythm. Please! Call a meeting of the clan so I can explain about this wonderful tool. It can help us with our hunting!”
The chieftain raised his thick eyebrows. “I heard about your encounter with the wooly mammoth from the other hunters,” said the tribal leader with a deep rumbling voice. “The other hunters expected you to be killed. But you showed great bravery, and quick thinking. Grabbing onto the trunk of the mammoth is unheard of! No one has ever done this before. The forest spirits must be protecting you, or you would be dead now.”
He thought for a second. “Perhaps a forest maiden has given you a gift. The people of the village will hear what you have to say. I will call for a great fire this evening. You will tell us about this new sense that you say can be a helpful tool. For sure! Spears and clubs are not enough!”
The people of the tribe lived in round huts made of straw and mud. A communal fire burned every evening in the middle of the village.
That evening, everyone gathered into a great circle around the crackling fire. There were fifty men and women sitting on ground, mumbling impatiently amongst themselves.
The tribesmen wore clothing made of animal skins and leather. Their shoes were laced around their ankles with braided straw. The men painted their foreheads with simple images of animals that they had killed this season. The images, unfortunately, were mostly of the slower animals, such as porcupines and skunks.
Neewa stood in the middle, next to the warm glowing fire. He could feel everyone staring at him, waiting for him to speak. He cleared his throat and spoke. “Our chieftain told you about my dream and the goddess of the stream. The Rhythm Maiden showed me a new sense. It’s something like hearing or seeing, but it’s more like a feeling. The goddess called it rhythm. It has to do with time and the patterns of sound. It can be fun, but perhaps rhythm can also be helpful to us with our hunting and planting.”
“I don’t understand what you’re talking about,” said a tribesman named Timble. He grumbled, irritated within his own confusion. He scratched his head over and over as he thought. After scratching his head for a while, he nervously scratched his itchy armpits. Then Timble folded his arms for a second before he began scratching his head and armpits all over again. Others joined in with their skepticism. Everyone was mumbling in confusion and fidgeting with their hands.
Neewa began to realize that what he hoped to teach was not going to be easy. He offered a suggestion. “Explaining about rhythm to someone who has never experienced it is like telling a blind man about seeing. Or it’s like telling a deaf man about hearing.
“What do you mean?” the chief grumbled. “Is it about seeing, or is it about hearing?”
“In the morning, all of you must come with me to the stream. I’ll show you rhythm, just like the maiden of the stream showed me. Then you’ll understand for yourselves.”
Everyone agreed to this request.
*****
Sola’s Prediction
The next morning, Sola was sitting in the middle of her stream when she heard voices. “The tribesmen are approaching my stream.” In a panic, Sola realized, “Neewa has come to show them my rhythms.”
She had to act quickly. There was only one thing she could do to stop this from happening. Sola quietly drifted upstream to where she felt sure that no one would see her. The maiden unrolled her long hair and set it down into the water. The silver and black hair was perfectly camouflaged as it floated downstream. Just like the Rhythm Maiden wanted, her hair muffled all the rhythms of her stream.
Neewa told everyone to listen to the stream. But as they all listened, they heard nothing. Neewa was confused and upset.
Suddenly Neewa had a flashback of his dream. He recalled the long flowing hair of the goddess of the stream. Neewa squinted until his eyes were tiny slits. He tilted his head back and forth while he gazed at the stream. The boy was finally able to see the hair of the Rhythm Maiden spread across the surface of the water.
“Some of you men help me lift up this blanket of hair and move it away from the stream!” Six men made a semicircle on both sides of the stream. They poked around the water until they could feel the hair. In their typically uncoordinated way, they tried to move the hair out of the water. They tripped over each other and fell in the stream. Eventually, they managed to roll up the hair and push it out of the water onto the streambed. Finally, all the wonderful sounds of the stream were gurgling their patterns of joy.
Neewa quickly taught them. “Listen to the sound of this little pool. Notice how it repeats over and over. Move your body to the tempo so you can feel it.”
The tribe was getting it. One at a time, they found the rhythm. Soon they were swaying together to one of the rhythm patterns. They looked at each other and realized they were moving together. They all laughed, having never experienced this before.
They stayed by the stream for a while. The children jumped in the water and made a game out of splashing the water together in rhythm. The day turned into a river and rhythm party.
Everyone was enjoying the party except the Rhythm Maiden. Once the people removed her hair, they forgot all about her.
She sat very still, like a rock, thinking, “I know these people can’t see me, but they know I’m here. Even though I tried to stop them, they know I gave them this gift. They didn’t even thank me. They don’t have very good manners. Especially Neewa!” She stopped pouting. “But I’ll try to get beyond feeling insulted and hurt. After all, they’re very inexperienced about how to treat each other. Unfortunately, I cannot take back the secret of rhythm. It’s too late.”
Sola wasn’t sad, and she didn’t seek revenge. But she was feeling rather smug. The goddess predicted, “People will learn many useful things about rhythm on their own. They will learn how to use the great sense to work together. Mankind will learn about time and how long the day is. But they will not learn the great joy rhythm can give. There will come a day when the gift of rhythm will seem like a curse, and they will wish they never learned about rhythm. Neewa will come to me and ask me to take the gift back!”
*****
Happy but Sad
Now that the hunters were able to sense the rhythm of the beasts, they brought much food to the table. Now, also, the farmers could study the seasons. They understood when the last frost gave way to spring, and it became safe to plant their seeds. They knew when it was time to gather their harvest, before the winter winds took away the best of their crop.
The tribe was very grateful to Neewa. A few years later, Neewa had grown more muscular and taller until he was a mature man. He used fish bones to comb his hair and to hold it away from his face. When the older chieftain died, the tribe chose Neewa as their leader.
But all was not well. Although everyone was most happy with their harvest and their hunting, when they tried to celebrate the happiness of their bounty, they could not.
At first, after much eating and drinking, the people would look at each other and just smile. Some tribesmen were missing one or more front teeth. Timble had an extreme overbite that made him look like a rabbit when he smiled. Now he was scratching himself under his chin. They knew there was much to rejoice, but they did not know how.
One of the elders suggested, “Since our newfound rhythm has helped us with our hunting and our harvest, then rhythm must be a part of our celebrations.”
So the people began clapping their hands together in joy. Everyone liked clapping together, however, before long everyone became bored with just clapping.
They jumped up and down together as if they were dancing. One person would jump up while another came down, and they were stepping all over each other’s shoes. There was no sound to jump together with, so their parties became total chaos. They could think of no other fun way of celebrating. When they should have been celebrating and happy, instead, they became very frustrated and unhappy.
*****
A Special Gift
Neewa thought out loud, “In some ways, rhythm seems like a curse upon our people. It’s like we’re being punished. Why should we be punished?
He thought back to the beginning, to the day when he had led his tribesmen to the stream, and showed them rhythm. “The Rhythm Maiden tried to stop me. I don’t know why, but she didn’t want me to show her rhythms to my people. That’s why she muffled her watery rhythms with her hair. I must speak to the goddess to find out why she did this. Perhaps she’s punishing us!”
So Neewa returned to the same, lovely place by the stream where he first met Sola. He hoped that Sola would come and take him back to the dream and speak to him. He tried to listen to the rhythm pattern of the stream that captured him before, but he couldn’t hear it within the flow of the water. “Sola! Please speak to me. I know you’re here. I don’t know why you’re punishing us.”
Sola finally spoke to Neewa in a cold, unfriendly voice. “Neewa! You returned to see me after all these years. Aren’t you happy with the gift of rhythm that you stole from me?”
“Stole from you? Oh sacred goddess! Rhythm belongs to everyone and everything. You really only showed it to me. However, please be assured that my people and I are very grateful to you for your revelation.”
Sola pouted. “If you were so grateful, why did you abruptly leave without thanking me? Why didn’t you ask permission to show this gift to your tribe? Why did you push my hair aside when I tried to stop you from showing the rhythms? Don’t you think I had a reason for doing that?
“Rhythm is a great power. The law of the spirit kingdom commands that we are not to give away our secret powers. People must discover these powers on their own, when they are ready.”
“Then why did you show them to me in the first place if you weren’t supposed to?”
“I must admit that my pride and boastfulness carried me away. I wanted to show off my rhythmic creations. I was also a little lonely too. You came along and were receptive to my rhythm patterns. You listened and I showed you more and more. You liked my rhythms and it felt good for me to show you. By the time you woke up, I had showed you everything. Then you ran away before I could tell you that it must be kept a secret.”
“But Sola! If I was not ready for rhythm, then I wouldn’t have fallen into the dream-spell you lured me into with your rhythms. My people would not have heard your rhythms in your stream, even though I had to point the rhythms out to them. We were ready. We can only thank you for helping us. I’m sorry I didn’t thank you before I left the dream, but I was so excited. You are a goddess. I didn’t realize that you had such human feelings.”
The stream was barely running, almost dry. Sola let out a big sob and began to cry with relief. “Perhaps you’re right, Neewa. Maybe your people are ready for rhythm.”
Magically, the stream began to cascade with water as it gushed from the Rhythm Maiden’s tears.
Neewa dropped to his knees and bowed his head. “I was rude when I left your dream-spell so abruptly. And Sola, I want to thank you for teaching me about rhythm. I really love the rhythms that I never knew existed until you shared them with me.”
Sola cried, even more. But now they were tears of joy.
“Sola! Rhythm is a great help to us, and not only with hunting and planting. We can work together to move huge stones and accomplish many other difficult tasks. But it seems that rhythm also has become a curse. When we have a good hunt and every reason to be happy, we want to celebrate. But we don’t know how, so then we become sad. Maybe you’re right. Perhaps we aren’t ready for the power of rhythm if this is what happens to us.”
“Rhythm is very powerful and can help you do great things. It flows like water, yet holds the universe together.” Sola gave a knowing smile. I knew you’d return someday because of this very problem you mention. Your people are missing an instrument of joy to express their rhythm. They need something that will enable them to make rhythm that also has a lovely sound.
“You long for something that will help everyone feel the many different tempos together, so they might dance.”
“What is dance?”
Sola continued. “Your tribesmen will learn how to dance only once they hear a tempo. I love my stream. I get tremendous pleasure from the rhythms I coax from the water and the rocks. However, I realize your people are of the earth, and can’t use the water like I can.”
So the goddess took Neewa by the hand, and led him behind one of her waterfalls to a small cave. Within the cave, with its curtain of water for an entrance, stood a pedestal made of smooth, river rock. Upon this pedestal was an exquisite drum, made from driftwood, and covered with the skin of a long forgotten animal. The skin was tied to the drum with locks of Sola’s own hair.
Sola gave the drum to Neewa and told him, “Go back to your people, and play this instrument of joy when the people want to celebrate. Also play this drum when they are sad. This drum is the source of the rhythm of the stream, and it will be The Mother of All Drums for Neewa’s people!”
This time Neewa thanked the Lady of the Stream, and prayed to her that he would become one with the drum, like Sola was one with the stream.
Sola honored his request. First Sola exhaled all of her breath until she shrank to half her size. Then she pressed her mouth against Neewa’s mouth like a kiss. She inhaled deeply and drew his spirit out of his body into herself. She swelled quite large as she inhaled. Her lungs were burning with the warmth of his spirit. She carefully walked over to the drum and moved her lips to the hole in the bottom of the drum. With her breath, she blew Neewa’s spirit into the drum.
Without his spirit, Neewa’s body became very cold and lifeless. His body quickly hardened as it turned into a statue of pure gold, radiant and royal, like the noble soul that had just departed. He held a joyous expression on his face, as though Neewa had found his place in the universe.
Sola left the statue in place, hidden behind her waterfall. She kept it with her other treasures, in remembrance of Neewa.
Neewa didn’t really know what it meant to be one with the drum. As Sola inhaled Neewa’s spirit, Neewa could feel his mind and life force leaving his body and becoming part of Sola. Then with a puff of air, his thoughts and presence were blown inside the special drum that he had just seen for the first time.
With the water so high, Sola lifted the heavy drum and carried it around the curtain of water to the stream right outside her cave. She placed the powerful drum in the fast flowing current and let it drift away.
The drum bobbed up and down in the water, floating downstream to the edge of the village. The people who found the drum along the riverbank immediately noticed its ancient beauty and the wonderful sound that emanated from within it. They only had to touch the sacred drum for it to produce a powerful rhythm.
The spirit of Neewa guided the hands of the drummer. The rhythm of the drum was easy to feel, and people finally began to dance together in celebration.
From that day forward, when the village celebrated, it was the Rhythm Maiden who had helped the people to be able to dance to rhythms. From then on, all drums were made in the image of this mother drum, and a small part of the spirit of Neewa became a part of every drum. His spirit still guides the hands of all drummers, and the rhythm of Sola flows in never-ending patterns of joy, as from the beginning of a stream all the way to the sea. 
—Cornelius
You have just finished reading the first chapter of The Drums of Legenderry. We hope you enjoyed it.
Music samples are from the Drum Songs CD.
