The Sound of the Drum:

By: Christine McFarlane

There is something about the beat of the hand drum that makes me feel calm inside. When I hear the sound of the drum it is like I have come back home, to the roots that were lost to me while growing up. It is hard to explain, unless you have been there yourself.

As a child, I grew up in two worlds. One where I couldn’t explore my native heritage, yet I knew I was different, different from those who lived in the neighborhood alongside me. My neighborhood consisted of white and middle class families, while my sister and I were dark. We stood out for who and what we represented, First Nations children in a sea of white, at a time in Canadian history, where native children were taken from their homes and adopted out. Adopted out and never knowing the rich heritage of a strong and resilient people. I have never asked my sister, how did it make you feel?,I can only imagine that her pain may have been similar.  A repetition of a legacy felt by many of our people before us of abandonment, loss, and hurt. A legacy I have promised myself I would never repeat, no matter where I end up in life

I don’t hold the awakening of my heritage against myself any longer, I know inside that when I hear the hand drum, I come alive inside. My sister and I are on divergent paths, carving out our own destinies. I have decided, in my own right, that it is time for me to come back to my roots, to feel the pride I never felt while growing up, and to hold my head up high.  The silence of the drum and not hearing its beat is something of the past. Years have gone by, since I have spoken to the very people that made me feel that being First Nations was something wrong.  The messages of shame and hurt still pop up from time to time especially when I am at my most vulnerable, yet I know I need to let it go. I question those messages all the time, especially when I am at an event, and I hear the sound of the drum, the singing that goes along with it and the community that gathers around and is all one.

Many First Nations people believe that the beat of the drum, is the beat of Mother Earth’s heart. The steady rhythm and the beat of the drummer’s stick hitting the skin of the drum takes me to a place, a place that feeds my soul emotionally, physically, spiritually and emotionally. I hear the singing and it soothes me. I find myself tapping my foot and wanting to dance. I have come home, and I am smiling inside at last.