Sophomores Bailey Reinmiller and Vanessa Taylor had never danced or drummed like villagers in Guinea, a coastal nation in West Africa, but by the end of the night Thursday, they were both flying across the Many Nations Longhouse, arms akimbo, feet barely grazing the ground.
The College of Education and the Longhouse hosted international dance and drumming phenoms Youssouf Koumbassa and Fode Bangoura for an invitation-only Guinean drum and dance workshop Thursday.
As attendees funneled in, they took seats in a large circle, each with a pad in front for a djembe, a hip-high hand drum carved from a log and topped with goat skin.
Three spaces in the circle were saved for dununs, larger, deeper drums with bells on top that are used for rhythm.
After a welcoming speech by Frank Summers of the Klamath and Lakota tribes describing the importance of drumming to Native American culture and how it has been used as a uniting force, Koumbassa gave a speech describing drumming and dancing’s importance in Guinean culture before turning the floor over to Bangoura.
Bangoura sat in the circle and instructed three drummers to stand at the dununs and provide a rhythm. He then pounded out licks on his djembe, instructing the other drummers to mimic him. At first it was a jerking cacophony, defined by stops and starts, but soon the students and community members in attendance got the hang of their drums and produced a song.
During the span of an hour, Bangoura taught several different beats to his students. While they played, he pounded out wild solos with his hands, which are bandaged and callused from years of drumming.
Bangoura, who is touring the U.S. with Koumbassa to promote his new album, “Fakoly 1,” said he has been drumming since the age of seven. Now 29, Bangoura’s drumming has taken him around the globe – throughout Africa, Europe, Asia and the U.S. He said that during his travels, he has not found a better dancer than Koumbassa.
“He’s the best,” Bangoura said. “He’s my favorite dancer.”
Koumbassa’s dancing fuels his drumming, he said.
The djembes and dununs were later moved to the far side of the room and set up for six drummers, clearing most of the floor for the dancers. About 20 women moved into lines on the floor, and the drummers began laying down a beat.
Koumbassa stood with his back to the dancers. Suddenly, he flung out his arms, stretching his chest and back. The dancers followed him, but mechanically, without the fluidity Koumbassa had honed over a lifetime of performance. He led them in a 15-minute series of moves that doubled as stretches.
After a break, the drummers stopped playing, and without the benefit of a beat, Koumbassa began showing moves to the dancers behind them. They were still stiff, and Koumbassa turned to speak to them.
“It’s not just the hand and the feet,” Koumbassa said. ‘It’s complete.”
He demonstrated how the dancers had moved in small, controlled gestures. He contrasted his imitation by moving dramatically, using his arms, chest, head and legs for each step.
“You must smile,” he said. “You cannot dance if you look scared.”
He pushed the dancers, pointed out when they weren’t smiling and when they weren’t moving with their whole bodies. After another half hour, the dancers had gone wild, flinging bodies around the Longhouse with abandon.
“They don’t want to stop,” attendee Robin Allard yelled over the pounding drums and feet.
“You stopped paying attention to what was going on around you,” dancer Jody Hutchison said.
At the end, the dancers lined up to give thanks to Koumbassa and the drummers, grasping their hands, embracing them. One dancer planted a kiss on Koumbassa’s cheek.
Contact the freelance editor at [email protected]
World-renowned dancer, drummer host workshop
Daily Emerald
October 16, 2006
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