I used to play in a band. I was never very talented, and I didn’t practice that hard, but my friends allowed me to play with them. After a few dozen shows, and one EP we decided to split up and go our separate ways. It’s been years since I’ve played my bass, and I sold them before starting the education program, despite my lack of practice, Dr. Hart Banack of UNBC invited all of the teacher candidates out to the jams on Monday night. After a few good jams I was ready to pick up an instrument.
I didn’t have my bass anymore and I didn’t really want to pick up a guitar. I asked my dad for help to build a wooden drum box called a cahone. We built mine out of three times of wood; a birch shell, a pine back and a maple front. The sound is amazing. There is a deep thud when you pat it in the middle, and a few different kind of noises when you tap around the edges and roof.
This drum is made by my father who is a master carpenter. The knowledge that went into this drum, is 40 years of wood working experience from his hands alone. Some one taught him how to do woodwork! So that’s 40 years of my father+ the years of his mentors, and his mentors….
My dad has been a part of many big constructions in town. He was project supervisor on the PG courthouse, the world renown Richie Brother Auction House, and he was lead on the agora complex during UNBC’s construction. The same construction skills that built our institutions of education, legality and economics built this musical. instrument.
When I hear that deep thud, I am reminded of his prowess, and my voice. The sound resonates in my chest. The sounds that echo in this drum are an echo of the sounds that made this landscape.
It’ss a profound thing to play this drum for me. It connects my thoughts with my father and his colleagues. It connects me to the trees that once stood where my home is. When we started the UNBC education program, we had been ceremoniously started off by the UNHBC drummers. At the time, I didn’t really understand why drumming was such a big part of their culture and felt awkward participating in the event as an outsider. I won’t speak to their relationship with their drums, but they’ve been playing them for thousands of years and hundreds of generations. I can only imagine what kind of resonance they feel in their chests when they play their drums.
