Hopkins, Belize
This is a little story about my arrival in Belize in mid-January 2006. Here's some background first: I left my job at CCS at the end of October 2005. Feeling I was due for a break, I spent the next month and a half visiting with friends and family. After that, it was off to El Salvador where Liz conducted her research and I studied Spanish. Then we parted ways for a short while. Liz returned home to go back to school and I went to Belize for a 2 1/2 week vacation.
Arriving without a destination - an exhilirating feeling. I hopped into a cab and was immediately struck by the differences between Belize and El Salvador. The air was so clean and the spaces wide - I didn't know that Belize only has 280,000 people! I learned from the cab driver that the main bus company is in receivership, so I could ignore those bus schedules in my guidebook. No problem though, people are helpful and everyone speaks English.
I wandered into Hopkins, a sprawling Garifuna (Black carib) community in the south of Belize. I went straight for the open-air Lebeha drumming center and was introduced to Bato, touted as the master "Punta" drummer of Belize. It took a while for me the hear him play, but I understood - everything takes a while in Belize.
My second night in Hopkins, I had one drum lesson under my belt and was comfortable with the basic Punta rhythm. By this time, I had forgotten that my guidebook says: "Lebeha has drum performances nightly at 7:00". I was reminded of this when two young women from the US rolled a couple of bikes into the center and out of breath, stated: "We rushed over as fast as we could to make it for the show at seven..."
Bato and Jabbar, the two resident drummers, shared a chuckle at this sense of urgency while the audience of two waited patiently for the show to start. I asked; "Will there be a show tonight" and in a puff of smoke, Bato mumbled "you need three drummers..." I looked at the two of them and did the math. So, I'll go straight from learning to performing in a few short hours. That's OK, it's not a big audience, I thought.
We picked up some drums and sat on the wooden bench at the end of the palapa (hut). Bato said to me: "Follow him" and pointed to Jabbar. I nodded and picked up the punta rhythm. I helped Jabbar hold the line and we all watched Bato go off. The guy IS a master! He rolled through a range of solos with tireless energy.
As we played, a larger crowd started to gather. So much white: white shirts, white hats, white shorts, white shoes - white people. I tried to ignore the white wall that was forming around the palapa, because I didn't want to lose time (the beat). Then one of the white figures started yelling "Go white boy!", and taunting me, between chugs of Belikin beer - "Let's see a solo!" I looked over at Bato and he was having nothing of this. He was in the zone and my role was clear; keep the rhythm.
We finished the song and the crowd applauded. I savored the moment quickly before the hecker appeared in front of me, intent on taking my spot and showing his stuff on the drum. I moved to the audience and watched Bato tell him to follow Jabbar and keep the rhythm. As they played, the heckler followed no one, soloed constantly and endured a number of scoldings from Bato before being excused from the performer's area at the end of the song.
By that time a number of other local drummers had appeared on the scene and they joined in for what turned out to be an amazing performance. Kids banging on conch shells and shakers, older guys creating a thunderous roll on the big drums and some drummers actually good enough to trade solos with Bato.
Feeling that the experience couldn't be repeated in Hopkins, I moved on to my next destination the following day.
Here is my Belize photo album
Arriving without a destination - an exhilirating feeling. I hopped into a cab and was immediately struck by the differences between Belize and El Salvador. The air was so clean and the spaces wide - I didn't know that Belize only has 280,000 people! I learned from the cab driver that the main bus company is in receivership, so I could ignore those bus schedules in my guidebook. No problem though, people are helpful and everyone speaks English.
I wandered into Hopkins, a sprawling Garifuna (Black carib) community in the south of Belize. I went straight for the open-air Lebeha drumming center and was introduced to Bato, touted as the master "Punta" drummer of Belize. It took a while for me the hear him play, but I understood - everything takes a while in Belize.
My second night in Hopkins, I had one drum lesson under my belt and was comfortable with the basic Punta rhythm. By this time, I had forgotten that my guidebook says: "Lebeha has drum performances nightly at 7:00". I was reminded of this when two young women from the US rolled a couple of bikes into the center and out of breath, stated: "We rushed over as fast as we could to make it for the show at seven..."
Bato and Jabbar, the two resident drummers, shared a chuckle at this sense of urgency while the audience of two waited patiently for the show to start. I asked; "Will there be a show tonight" and in a puff of smoke, Bato mumbled "you need three drummers..." I looked at the two of them and did the math. So, I'll go straight from learning to performing in a few short hours. That's OK, it's not a big audience, I thought.
We picked up some drums and sat on the wooden bench at the end of the palapa (hut). Bato said to me: "Follow him" and pointed to Jabbar. I nodded and picked up the punta rhythm. I helped Jabbar hold the line and we all watched Bato go off. The guy IS a master! He rolled through a range of solos with tireless energy.
As we played, a larger crowd started to gather. So much white: white shirts, white hats, white shorts, white shoes - white people. I tried to ignore the white wall that was forming around the palapa, because I didn't want to lose time (the beat). Then one of the white figures started yelling "Go white boy!", and taunting me, between chugs of Belikin beer - "Let's see a solo!" I looked over at Bato and he was having nothing of this. He was in the zone and my role was clear; keep the rhythm.
We finished the song and the crowd applauded. I savored the moment quickly before the hecker appeared in front of me, intent on taking my spot and showing his stuff on the drum. I moved to the audience and watched Bato tell him to follow Jabbar and keep the rhythm. As they played, the heckler followed no one, soloed constantly and endured a number of scoldings from Bato before being excused from the performer's area at the end of the song.
By that time a number of other local drummers had appeared on the scene and they joined in for what turned out to be an amazing performance. Kids banging on conch shells and shakers, older guys creating a thunderous roll on the big drums and some drummers actually good enough to trade solos with Bato.
Feeling that the experience couldn't be repeated in Hopkins, I moved on to my next destination the following day.
Here is my Belize photo albumposted by Mark Halpert | 8:40 AM
|
0 comments
