Behind the curtain of the trees
the throb of drums conveys a meaning,
curse or welcome who can say,
drums of war or peace or prayer
defiance hanging in the air?
So the drum rolls as the bell tolls
finding joy and knowing horror
forcing dance on shackled men.
struck by first mates on the slave ships
transporting pain of forced migration
belabouring the slave plantation.
Banned by slave plantation owners
vibrant deerskin stretched on wood
drum and bass pursue the dialogue
back and forth across the ocean.
Suspect is the drum of freedom
Tippu Tib from his grand mud house
bald and bearded in his deckchair
middleman bartering slaves for muskets
swells from Leopold’s ambition
profits from ivory, slaves and rubber
black, brown, whiteskin trade together.
Below the boundary of the Blue Nile
Stanley heads from Tanganyika
through the jungle to the Congo
on whose bank a mourning priestess
arms uplifted in her god dream
defies the piercing steamboat scream.
Victoria applauds Earl Kitchener
awards him title for the slaughter
of ten thousand Mahdi soldiers
extends control of her great empire
receives a slaver’s royal cow drum
revenge for Gordon from Khartoum.
Congo water fills the eardrums
with a deafening constant throbbing
of black labour on the riverbank
building railroads round the rapids
heart and drum they beat together
from Stanley Falls Kurtz chugs downriver.
The banks of London minted money
forth and back across the ocean
investors thrived on each slave black man
bequeathing wealth to legatees
those demanding compensation
after black emancipation.
Who hears the hollow crepitation
stealthy whisper of the drumbeat
the rapid patter of tapping palms
the booming bass drum’s tense vibration
as black fingers knuckle under
hammer out a roll of thunder
the roll call of the muffled drum?
©Terry Hodgson2020
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