Women find peace, energy, sisterhood through drum ensemble

By Liz Barry

Published: June 18, 2008

Slideshow: Nataraja

Nine women drum in a cramped living room — the mother rhythm. The drums pulse like a heart, beating through the walls to the yard outside.

Boom.

Slideshow: Nataraja

Nine sets of hands fall limply on their drumheads. After a moment of silence, the room explodes into raucous laughter.

It’s drum circle night for the Nataraja Women’s Drum Ensemble, a group of 12 women that meet every Wednesday to play the djembe, a West African hand drum.

The women hail from the world over — Lynchburg to India — and span three decades in age: from late 20s through late 50s. Their jobs are equally diverse: horse trainer, artist, mental health professional, massage therapist, college professor and music teacher, to name a few.

Five years ago, the group began with just two women. Gradually Nataraja expanded. The drum nurtured laughter, friendship and trust. 

Today, they are a sisterhood, 12-women strong.

Tonight, they have gathered on a mish-mash of couches and chairs in the living room of Harriet Peterson, who lives near Rivermont and is the group’s music leader. They sit in a circle, with 2-foot djembe drums wedged between their knees.

The mother rhythm hangs in the air as Carol Goldman, the group’s organizer, attempts to restore order.

“OK, what do we want to play?” Goldman says.

“Want to play ‘Fango?’” replies Peterson, referring to a welcome dance from Liberia.

A resounding “yeah” fills the room.

African Roots
Nataraja’s roots transcend the drum circle fads of the ’80s and ’90s, and hearken back to deep-seated drumming traditions in Africa — a history that the group recognizes and respects.

The drum is the heartbeat of Africa. Traditions may vary by region and tribe, but drumming is pretty much a constant.

The djembe drum originated in West Africa, where drumming is typically performed by highly trained individuals and is almost always accompanied by dancing. It entered the American consciousness in the 1950s, during the worldwide tours of Les Ballet Africains, an African drum and dance troupe.

During the 1980s, the djembe took on a new identity in the United States in the form of communal drum circles.

“It is only in the past several decades that African-based hand drumming has separated from dance and taken on a life of its own in the form of drum circles — a uniquely American development, with little African precedent,” according to Wesleyan professor Eric Charry, who wrote the introduction to drumming icon Babatunde Olatunji’s autobiography, “The Beat of My Drum.”

Drum circles in the U.S. tend to be open to anyone and centered around Americanized ideals of peace, love, spiritual enlightenment and social action.

One Drum
Nataraja is an open circle (for women) that has gotten the word out through performances and word-of-mouth. Women have come and gone over the years, but a core of between four and six show up each week.

Unlike free-wheelingcircles, Nataraja learns and plays traditional rhythms from Africa, the Caribbean and South America. They perform sporadically, with past shows at local colleges, a peace vigil at Monument Terrace downtown and a hospice memorial ceremony at Centra Health.

From a musical standpoint, the group’s goal is to become one drum. For this to occur, each member must be aware of how her rhythm fits into the whole. When the group falls in sync, “It’s just magic,” Peterson says.

Nataraja’s energy is contagious. They have a connection that extends beyond words, and they absorb new women into the group with love.

When explaining the group dynamic, the women chime in — sometimes two at a time — and finish each other’s sentences.

“It’s a sisterhood,” says Goldman, a music teacher and founding member.

“We all just connect, and we become sisters… ,” says Joyce Abbott, a massage therapist.

“Our souls are connected without words. The rhythm connects our souls,” adds LeAnn James, a reading specialist.

“Did you mention the birthday cakes and wine?” laughs Anja Falcone, a longtime volunteer.

The drum circle also provides an outlet for stress and relief from the daily grind. Group members cite the power of drumming, describing a paradoxical feeling that at once calms and energizes.

For some, the peace derived from drumming vibrates in their bodies for days.

“You feel rested, but you feel energetic, too,” Goldman says.

“Because you can feel tired and drained when you come in, and then you’re energized when you leave,” Abbott adds.

Mother Nurture
Nataraja started with just two women, Goldman and Gina Meadows, an administrator for Centra’s Mental Health Services. After seeing a performance by Spoken Hand, a percussion orchestra from Philadelphia, the friends were inspired to learn African drumming.

They got connected with musician Ed Mikenas of Madison Heights, who had learned dhembe from “Papa” Ladji Camara of Guinea, the king of contemporary African drumming.

Mikenas passed on his knowledge to Meadows and Goldman, and slowly the group grew. In the beginning, Mikenas would give lessons to the new members to get them up to speed, but eventually Nataraja become completely self-sufficient.

“Since I look at them as my children, it was the equivalent of letting them grow up and go off,” Mikenas says.

The women chose the name Nataraja, which comes from the Hindu God Shiva, who holds a drum that creates the sounds of the universe. Nataraja refers to the God’s dance of life, a divine dance of creation and destruction.

Mikenas says that the women’s drum ensemble is a positive force in Lynchburg because it celebrates cultural diversity and honors a culture of drumming.

“Certainly there’s a big degree of women’s empowerment there,” he adds. “They are doing something that women do best, which is get together and make things happen.”

Nataraja is still open to new members. Beyond that, future plans are undecided, and group members want the ensemble to grow organically. One thing, though, will definitely stay the same: No boys allowed.