טמטם - תיפוף אפריקאי

this is a very interesting article from a living encyclopedia: Kokelaere

take your time and read carefully:

THE BELLS OF THE DJEMBE, A STRANGE RINGING SOUND.

The sounds of the djembe are subject to all interpretations, all speculations, all suppositions. The subject of countless magical or romanticized fantasies (as soon as Africa is mentioned, magic is never far away in the collective imagination…), we will attempt in this article to investigate, to encounter objects that appear innocuous but may not be so sober after all? Perhaps we should look for in this crackling a sound reminiscent of the buzzing of bees, so dear to the goddesses of ancient Egypt, the song of the wind, or walking through the papyrus stalks along the banks of the Nile, the chirping of bird colonies, or something else entirely mystical, etc., etc.?

As a preface, let's begin with a brief reminder… “Most cultures with an oral tradition where the drum still embodies an important role and status today—as is the case for the African continent—most often convey an original conception stemming from myths and beliefs far removed from any historical perspective and therefore from attested facts.” (1)
"The jingle bells, also called 'sessé' or 'ears', are attached to the upper edge of the drum. Made from a sheet of metal varying from 1 to 4 mm thick, or from tin cans, they differ in size and shape and also contribute to the instrument's ornamentation. They have holes drilled around their edges into which small metal rings are threaded." (2) Formerly, they were much larger, and because the drumheads were less taut due to the leather lacing, the jingle player (3) had to strike harder and move his hand forward to produce the high-pitched (slap) sounds. The clanging of the bells was then much louder due to their constant movement. How can we imagine that this state of affairs wasn't a deliberate choice by the ancient djembefolas? How can we imagine that the enormous clanging of these giant bells, developed year after year by generations of djembefolas, was there by chance, simply to "look pretty," and didn't correspond to a strong, perfectly conscious, and deliberate choice, connected to something beyond our understanding? Why? That's another story, and even the greatest 𝑑𝑗𝑒𝑚𝑏𝑒𝑓𝑜𝑙𝑎 don't have an explicit answer, although they half-heartedly express their regret that jingles are disappearing from modern playing without clearly stating the reason (4).

Today, with the extremely taut skin of the 𝑑𝑗𝑒𝑚𝑏é, which appeared in the late 1970s with the introduction of nylon strings (5), and because the hand is placed only on the edge of the instrument to alternate between the mid-range (tonic) and high-pitched (slap) sounds, requiring a less powerful strike, jingles resonate much less, their size has been reduced to a mere fraction, and they serve a primarily decorative function, when they still exist at all, as the trend is rather to remove them.

The younger generation of 𝑑𝑗𝑒𝑚𝑏𝑒𝑓𝑜𝑙𝑎, increasingly distant from village tradition, is content with the standardized, watered-down repertoire of dances and fails to grasp the immediate value of immersing themselves in the ancient village culture that valued cowbells, whose role was crucial.

𝐋’𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐫é𝐡𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧
On the other hand, how can we deny that non-Africans struggle to understand cowbells and don't "understand" their purpose? How many times have we heard, "With cowbells, the sound isn't clean!" "Or, 'This constant noise is annoying,' or even, 'What's the point of these things?'" These same non-Africans are in a dominant position because they control the music market, as professional musicians live solely off the income of non-Africans: their students, internships, classes, tours abroad, or instrument sales; indeed, it is impossible for a musician to live solely from their art in their home country. The direct influence of non-Africans on African culture, particularly since the end of colonization (a vast debate…), and especially with regard to percussion ballet, has always been extremely pervasive and has constantly reduced this culture to its spectacular surface.

All percussion workshops and classes are conducted without rattles.

This is complicated because it's difficult to imagine 20, 30, or more students sitting in their chairs with drums equipped with rattles (but why so many students?). Especially when you consider that in most cases, the classrooms are unsuitable and far too reverberant (wasn't the drum originally an instrument played outdoors?). If, in addition, the drums are equipped with rattles, then we'd be bordering on chaos (especially since the threshold of auditory tolerance is often exceeded...).

Unless we consider the related question of the format of these percussion workshops, which seem designed solely to generate income for the instructors and are the complete opposite of how percussion is taught in Africa? Shouldn't we have, from the very beginning of the arrival of Mandinka percussion in Europe in the late 1980s, considered a more coherent and respectful approach to teaching the music, with small class sizes, in suitable spaces, and with teachers committed to pedagogy? Being a brilliant international soloist doesn't automatically equate to pedagogical expertise. What can be said about a teacher who accepts fifty (or more) students of all levels into a hyper-resonant gymnasium? That he's a good teacher? That his students manage to get along? It's quite surprising to see that this situation no longer surprises anyone, and that some even condone it by organizing these kinds of workshops...

The Irritability
As if drumming and its understanding could only be rational? As if all African mysticism had to fit into the Cartesian box of the Western world, neat and perfectly codified. Isn't it tantamount to dismissing, to denying the immense richness of traditional cultures, to insist on categorizing them, on confining them within the tightly sealed box of Western perception? There will always be an intangible element in the understanding of rhythms and drums, a mystical element, a transcendent element, a sense of "elsewhere," which will escape Cartesian rationality, but isn't that precisely what makes this culture so appealing? There's no need to invoke magic (drum magician), the devil (frenzied rhythms), sorcery (djembe wizard), or elitism (djembe king, djembe grand master) in every context, as if it were possible to put words to the unnamable, the indefinable, the strange and the unknown. Anything beyond comprehension is the devil, witchcraft, animism, savagery, and so on.
As soon as something escapes the rationality of Western man, he can't help himself; he wants to understand it; nothing must escape him… He's wired that way: 1+1=2. He wants to force Africa into his paradigm; the problem is, Africa doesn't work that way. It's so complex that Western man's reasoning gets lost and drowns in it!

So, three options present themselves:

- the first: to deny everything outright. There is us, Western civilization, and then there are the others.
- The second: the innocent (and so humanist...) naiveté of an idyllic vision of Africa.
- The third: which attempts to find a balance, a lucid, peaceful, and open relationship.

The djembe's soul
The rattles are as integral to the djembe as its soul. What could be more indefinable than "the soul"? What could be more insipid than a human being without a soul? Well, the rattles are the soul of the djembe, its vital principle, impregnable and, by its very nature, indefinable. Removing them, isn't that unconsciously playing into the hands of the dominant culture's appropriation of an aesthetic stemming from the colonial era?

The djembe drumming style has also changed, which has greatly impacted the use of rattles. The traditional village style emphasized the pulse, and the sound was conceived as an inseparable whole where the rattle, "the song of the rattles," was an integral part of the overall sound.
Nowadays, the virtuoso drumming, consisting mainly of short phrases derived from dance rhythms, is largely incompatible with this "song of the rattles."
This crackling metallic sound that accompanies, prolongs, or forms part of the sound is common throughout Africa, but also in many countries around the world: the chirping of the resonators of the 𝑏𝑎𝑙𝑎𝑓𝑜𝑛 (made from spider cocoons) and the rattles on the wrists of the players of the 𝑆𝑜𝑠𝑠𝑜 𝐵𝑎𝑙𝑎, the ancestor of the 𝑏𝑎𝑙𝑎𝑓𝑜𝑛, the rattles that extend the neck of the 𝑏𝑜𝑙𝑜𝑛, the metal rings of the 𝑚’𝑏𝑖𝑟𝑎 (sanza), the rattles (small gourds) hanging from the wrists of bass drum or n’goma drum players, the bells of the yi of bass drums or Talking Drums, the metal grid of the snare drum, the crackling sound of the fiddle or sitar and the Indian tampura, the distortion of the electric guitar—the examples are endless…

In rare cases, such as the military drum or the snare drum, the The snare wire (a metal wire located beneath the resonating head) serves to increase the clarity of the sound. Ultimately, it's a subjective perception, as one could also say that the sound of the snare drum is somewhat harsh compared to the "round" sound of the toms.

"1680 'Snare, name of the lower membrane of a double-headed drum, as well as the strings stretched against this membrane' (Rich.);" This word (snare), used to designate a madman, dates back to the Middle Ages. It refers to the bells used at the time, the "timbres." After the word "drum," "timbre" came to mean anything that rings. Bells were used to warn the population of the arrival of an important person, but also to end debates held in the public square. They were struck with a hammer. But over time, they could crack. The sound produced would then be dissonant. Thus, people who had lost their minds began to be placed near these bells that had lost their sound. This is also the same explanation for the expression “to be cracked.” (5) The expression “to be timbral” is said to have the same origin…
There is an antinomy in the fact that “timbre” alludes to the sound of the bell, which is “modified,” diverted by its crack, whereas in the snare drum, the addition of the snare “brings” a clearer sound. In the case of “mirliton” instruments, it is a sonic complexity, a richness that complements the initial sound.
Why has the human ear always sought to associate the “straight” sound of the blade, the string, the skin, etc., with a complex, crackling sound, even though no objective use could be perceived at first glance? Why does this tradition persist and continue to be passed down from generation to generation in certain traditional music? Perhaps we must look for some answers in the ancient history of humankind?

On the Path of Origins

Ancient Egypt
Let's begin with Ancient Egypt, where the following appeared:

.. "Sistras—rattles with cymbals—are associated with frame drums from the earliest depictions of musical instruments... The sistrum punctuates the most sacred rituals. Its rhythmic clattering has the power to align human consciousness with divine consciousness. Texts describe the goddess Hora shaking her sistrum to illuminate consciousness. In Egyptian, the word sistrum also means to shine, to distribute light." Because of its sound and gesture, it sets the world in motion. The sistrum has a highly protective function. The sonic vibration of the metal is said to have the power to repel evil spirits, enemies, or the effects of the evil eye. Shaking bells, rattling castanets, clashing cymbals, or striking a gong are shamanic practices as old as the world.

The Egyptian sistrum
Nefertari is depicted with a sistrum in her right hand and a lotus flower in her left in the temple of Abou Simbel.

The sistrum was a sacred instrument in ancient Egypt. Perhaps originating from the cult of Bat, it was used in dances and religious ceremonies, particularly those dedicated to the goddess Hathor, the U-shape of the handle and frame of the instrument recalling the image of this deified cow. It was a sacred instrument played only by priestesses. Sistrums were sounded to ward off the Nile floods and to drive away Setus. Isis, the mother goddess and universal progenitor, was depicted with a bucket in one hand, symbolizing the Nile floods, and a sistrum in the other. The goddess Batet is also depicted with a sistrum, recalling her role as goddess of dance, joy, and celebration. Besides Egyptian bas-reliefs depicting dances and festivals, the sistrum is also mentioned in Egyptian literature. There were several different hieroglyphs for the sistrum. (1)

The sistrum, an intimate instrument

"The sistrum is most certainly the musical instrument most closely associated with Pharaonic Egypt. The rattling sound emitted by this attribute of the goddess Hora when shaken is believed to reproduce the sound she makes, in her cow form, when walking through papyrus thickets." Another interpretation links its use to the ritual of removing papyrus—a ritual reserved for the Hathor cult. The sistrum's ringing is divinely imbued with magical virtues: it is believed to appease the gods, ward off evil spirits, and invoke protection. While ritual priests may use it during ceremonies, it is more generally considered a "feminine" instrument. Indeed, it is an attribute of goddesses (Isis, Hathor, Bacchet, etc.) and queens, and "the great ladies of Egypt almost always carry it. For them, it was much more an emblem of their office than a practical object within easy reach." Indeed, all these women made it a point of honor to be part of the "mastery" of their city's great temple, either as singers if they had a good voice, or as sistrum and crotale players if they could not aspire to anything more.

Last Pharaonic Dynasties and Ptolemaic Period (c. 1069–30 BC) The sistrum, an official and ritual instrument, punctuated and rhythmically marked the ceremonies. Victor Loret, an eminent Egyptologist and musicologist, studied it in great detail: "First, the Egyptians possessed not one sistrum, but two sistrums, of very different shapes and natures. Each of these two types of sistrum had a special name, which indicates that, in the eyes of the Egyptians, they were two quite distinct instruments... Although Egyptian artists depicted sistrums in a great variety of forms on bas-reliefs, all these forms can generally be reduced to two characteristic types. These instruments have only one part in common, the neck, which, in both types, is surmounted by a female head with bubal ears, which is the head of the goddess Hathor. As for the rest, the two sistrums differ completely from one another. The first, which the Egyptians called the The "sakhm" sistrum was originally made of wood, later of porcelain or glazed earthenware. The second, called the "saischschit," was entirely made of metal. In the "sakhm" sistrum, two or three horizontal rods each supported several rings. These rods were fixed, and it was the rings alone that, by striking each other when the instrument was shaken, produced the desired sound.

In the "saischschit" sistrum, there were no rings, at least not originally. These were the The rods themselves moved from right to left and left to right in holes drilled large enough to allow them to slide easily. The bent ends of these rods served to prevent them from falling, but above all to produce a metallic sound when they struck against the elliptical frame that supported them.
The sistrum is very frequently depicted on temple walls and in scenes in hypogea. The oldest representations are found in tombs of the 6th and 7th Dynasties at Dendera, and at Beni Hassan in a Middle Kingdom tomb (12th Dynasty).
Later, the sistrum spread throughout the Mediterranean basin and notably accompanied the Isis cults of the Greco-Roman world. Its use persisted in the early rites of Coptic Egypt, then it completely disappeared from the range of musical instruments. (6)

Arnaud Saura-Ziegelmeyer

“The very ancient existence of the instrument, first in Egypt, has given rise to several theories regarding its initial origin. Some believe the sistrum originated in Mesopotamia, others in sub-Saharan Africa. This debate does not yet seem to be definitively settled, due to a lack of more precise studies and a lack of concrete evidence of the object. Indeed, the earliest evidence of the primitive object in Egypt appears to date back to the Predynastic or Omarian period, or to Naqada II, that is, even before the establishment of the Kingdom of Egypt. Nevertheless, only the hieroglyphs in texts and the figurative scenes from the end of the Old Kingdom definitively attest to the existence and importance of the sistrum. Any earlier dating remains problematic due to the scarcity of evidence and, often, the absence of a context of discovery.” The existence of a Minoan sistrum is also mentioned around the 2nd millennium BC. However, Egypt remains the primary site of evidence for this instrument, offering sufficient certainty. Associated in particular with the cult of the goddess Hathor and the architectural style of Pharaonic and Ptolemaic Egyptian temples, the object entered the Greco-Roman world through its new connection to Isis and the Isiac cults. It is this Greco-Roman and Mediterranean context that particularly interests us in our study, from the rise to power of the first Ptolemies at the very end of the 4th century BC, to the prohibition and disappearance of the last polytheistic cults of the Mediterranean basin.
The term sššt (phonetically sechechet), derived from the verb sšš, is the oldest term, appearing in texts as early as the Old Kingdom. The word is a transcription of an onomatopoeia referring to the rustling of papyrus stalks, ritually used during festivals in honor of the goddess Hator in ancient Egypt. The glyph thus seems to convey an idea of ​​the initial sound used to designate the sistrum, itself a substitute imitating an older, plant-related sound practice. This first term is a generic term designating the sistrum without specifying its type. The second term in the Egyptian language is sḫm (sekhem). It seems to designate, although rarely used, more specifically the arched sistrum and appears from the 18th Dynasty onward, logically mirroring the emergence of the new type of instrument during the New Kingdom. While the meaning of these two terms seems debatable—we will return to this point later—it nevertheless appears to correspond, from a temporal perspective, to the appearance of the two types of material objects (fig. 2). (7) It is still striking to note that the term used in West Africa, 𝑠𝑒́𝑠𝑠𝑒́ 𝑜𝑢 𝑠𝑒́𝑠𝑠𝑒̀ 𝑜𝑢 𝑐ℎ𝑒́𝑐ℎ𝑒́ 𝑜𝑢 𝑐ℎ𝑒̀𝑐ℎ𝑒̀, to designate the rattles of the djembe is so close to the Egyptian word sššt (phonetically sechechet)!

The rattles and bells all over the drums must have some meaning, some purpose!

There are several ways to understand rattles…

- They are positioned on the instrument to respond to the player's movements.

- They resonate continuously through "sympathy," and the player must adapt their playing to this "soundscape."

- They connect the player to a divine or mystical principle.
- They can be purely decorative.

- They disappear, thus participating in the evolution of the instrument but also, in part, in its disembodiment.
So even if they are no longer there, they are still there… in a distant memory!

𝐋𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐬
.. "The sixth chapter of the Hindu Honey Doctrine, dedicated to the study of the chakras, tells us that the sound produced by the awakened 𝑘𝑢𝑛𝑑𝑎𝑙𝑖𝑛𝑖 resembles a "swarm of bees mad with love" and specifies that Kundalini is "the source from which all sound emanates (Kundalini from the word kuṇḍala meaning "earring, bracelet, spiraled around" is a Sanskrit term linked to Yoga which designates a powerful spiritual energy coiled in the base of the spine). The bendir, a fairly deep North African drum whose three strings stretched along the skin produce a powerful drone when struck, is undoubtedly very similar to the drum used by the Bee Priestesses to awaken the world to life.” (8)
Did you know?

“There was a time when almost every British rural family that kept bees followed a strange tradition. Whenever there was a death in the family, someone had to go to the hives and tell the bees about the terrible loss that had occurred. Failure to do so often resulted in further losses: the bees would leave the hive, not produce enough honey, or even die. Traditionally, the bees were kept informed not only of deaths but also of all important family matters: births, marriages, and long absences due to travel. If the bees were not informed, it was believed that all sorts of calamities would occur.” This particular custom is known as "announcement to the bees." This practice may have its origins in Celtic mythology, according to which bees were the link between our world and the spirit world.
So, if you wished to convey a message to a deceased loved one, you simply had to tell the bees, and they would carry it forward. The typical way to do this was for the head of the household, or the "good wife of the house," to go to the hives, tap gently to attract the bees' attention, and then whisper the solemn news softly and sadly. Over the centuries, regional variations developed. For example, in the East Midlands, the wives of the deceased would quietly sing before the hive: "The master is dead, but do not go away; Your mistress will be a good mistress for you." In Germany, a similar verse went: "Little bee, our master is dead, do not leave me in my distress." It is a fact that bees help us survive. 70 of the 100 main cultivated species that feed 90% of the human population depend on bees for pollination. Without them, these plants would cease to exist, and with them all the animals that feed on them. This could have a cascading effect that would catastrophically impact the food chain. The tradition of "announcement to the bees" underscores this deep connection that humans share with the insect.

Author unknown. Hans Thomas Art.

© François Kokelaere – July 2026

P.S.: A nod to Piers Faccini, the English musician who has long been drawn to triple meter. In this duo with Ballaké Sissoko, he strangely added a bit of wool, fabric, or cardboard to "flicker" the sound of his guitar. It's quite astonishing that he instinctively felt that something was missing from this very Mandinka rhythm and scale: the crackling. Coincidentally, this is one of the most coherent duos in terms of the meeting of different cultures and the balance of genre. For the record, it is also necessary to remember that the ancestors of the 𝑘𝑜𝑟𝑎, an instrument whose sound has become so clean and seductive today, had a rattle placed at the top of the neck – 𝑘𝑎𝑚𝑒𝑙 𝑛’𝑔𝑜𝑛𝑖, 𝑏𝑜𝑙𝑜𝑛, etc. which, with time and the domination of an all-powerful West, became like the rattles of the djembe, the chirping of the 𝑏𝑎𝑙𝑎𝑓𝑜𝑛, the rattles of the 𝑚’𝑏𝑖𝑟𝑎 (𝑠𝑎𝑛𝑧𝑎), etc. (The list would be long) have lost, or are gradually losing, their crackle. How could an English musician instinctively sense that something was missing from the sound produced by the guitar and the kora, with its slow triple meter, a crackle? It's nothing short of miraculous. This completely confirms my grand theories that this music, this culture, holds secrets that elude us, but that by taking a step aside, by venturing off the beaten path, by feeling things deep within ourselves, it is entirely possible to access them. We can also find some examples of non-African guitarists who, with the distortion of the electric guitar, rediscover the crackle so dear to the old masters, but still not at this level of finesse and intimacy. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ONexF6jS0pE
Piers Faccini & Ballaké Sissoko - "Mournful Moon" (Live)

(1) The sistrum - Wikipedia
(2) www.percussions-africaines.net
(3) djembefola, literally in the Maninka language "the one who makes the djembe speak," a name more generally given to djembe players

(4) "Memoir of an African Musician - Famoudou Konaté" by Thomas Ott, page 195
(5) "Memoir of an African Musician - Famoudou Konaté" by Thomas Ott, page 197
(6) "Military Music: The Mythical Function of the Drum" by Thierry Bouzard
(7) "The Sistrum, a Divine Instrument" by Marie Grillot
https://egyptophile.blogspot.com/2015/06/le-sistre-un-instrument-divin.html
(8) Layne Redmond – The Drummer Woman – Leduc Editions
(9) “Shaking the sistrum for the goddess: reconstructing the sound production of an idiophone”

Arnaud Saura-Ziegelmeyer https://doi.org/10.4000/pallas.2753
Indian Folk Dance & Music in South India - Tamil Nadu - Rasipuram near Salem for Marriage https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aRxnDnGkF18 Snare drums accompanied by rattles
Kalebeliya Gypsy Music from the Thar Desert – Rajasthan The rattles are arranged on The bow
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hIIa57QXjUw
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cQZTzacxjD0 - Dances and music of Rajasthan in India: Drums and bagpipes accompanied by a bar covered with cymbals
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CNU0FttxGYE&feature=youtu.be
Wake-up gathering among the Medegan ethnic group of Togo or Benin, Nigeria – “Talking drums” adorned with bells
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JrbYy3vcIzc - Traditional music of Congo
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kCfMMz_1m1I - Mbuti (Likembe) music

Piers Faccini & Ballake Sissoko - Mournful Moon (Live) Enjoy the videos and music you love, upload original content, and share it all with friends, family, and the world on YouTube.

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