The Drums Continue On...

So I just had my first dance class of the summer. I'm learning Ewe/Southern Ghana traditional drum rhythms in this group outside class, and it was overwhelming. I think in a good way. The class was very fast-paced today (compared to what I was used to at UG), but I don't know if everyday is like that. That's not why it was overwhelming. It was overwhelming because the first rhythm they practiced was Togo Achea, and I kept messing up the rattle because all my body wanted to do was move, to grab some horsetails and get to work, with Cecily and Bridget. I could hear Ewurama's voice in my head over and over with the rhythm of the bell. Ever since I've come back from Ghana, drums touch my dancing spirit in a way they're never done before, but they've never transported me somewhere until today.
We played some more songs, and to help focus, I zoned out onto the street. I was in front of a building in Temple University in the middle of a city, but all I could imagine in front of me was Drum Village, the concrete in front of my feet as I looked out into the beautiful dusty distance, red clay and blue sky, or smiled mischievously at Nii as he laughed with me on my efforts. Oh and Sir Johnson! And laughing with him at various students, or at myself with Bridget and Annie.Or getting frustrated.
Then we played Gahu, and I couldn't focus anymore. My hands were playing the bell and the drum,  but my body wanted to dance and with 10 minutes to spare I couldn't wait anymore. And immediately I missed Babz, Aline, Jared, Ruth, and countless other friends I shared laughs with as I danced, grabbed their hips, made funny faces to. I missed my TA's, who I hesitate to just refer to as TAs because they were my close friends in dance, willing to teach me and inspiring me to wake up everyday to get to practices for Michael Jackson waaaay before I'd ever danced in the morning ever in my life. And then I was sad, because I don't remember nearly as much of the dances that I learned as I should...but I was surprised because muscle memory is powerful, and those drums live on... and then I remember that technically, one of my Ghana friends is a bus ride away, with his beautiful wife.
Then class is over and all I'm left with is these memories, beautiful memories that make my fellow classmates wonder why I'm smiling wide and laughing in the middle of a song that is new to them, a song that has so much meaning for me.And I rode those memories home with me in the dark on the train back to Swarthmore, and now I'm sitting here, in the former room of another friend, a friend now alumnus who has great plans for his home in Ghana, and these memories finally overwhelm me to the point where all I can do is cry, tears of happiness and sadness, because of how much these friends continue to mean to me, and how I wish I could express this in more ways then I know these words can convey...I wish that my emotions could travel through country and across continents like these drums has found their way into my heart.
And even though I may not be the best drummer, the drums continue on...