Tanbouye ba mwen son mwen e
Tanbouye ba mwen son mwen e
Ountò o ba mwen son mwen
Solèy lève

People who serve the spirits according to traditions that evolved in Haiti during and after the Atlantic slave trade and throughout the Haitian diaspora recognize and honor the drum and drummers as essential to the sacred rites. The sound of the drum drives all but the few Christian songs that persist as remnants of the colonial past. The drum induces the servants to dance just as the moon sways the ocean tides. A servant reaches a state of ecstasy and loses his or her normal consciousness, and the spirit, having sensed the sacred pulse from the other side of the cosmic mirror, fills the emptied consciousness of the servant to dance with the congregation. Servants call the spirit of drums and drummers Ountò.

This presentation explores Ountò’s origins, his meanings in contemporary Haiti, his instrumental ensemble, and the musicians who represent him at services. Using a participatory approach, it demonstrates in layman’s terms how the ensemble composes the rhythms that invite spirits to dance. It shares information about the relationship of drumming to song as well as to dance, and it draws some distinctions between the Rada (Guinea Gulf) and Petwo (Congo) traditions in the performing arts of Haitian Vodou.

First, it would be useful to understand the nature of Haitian Vodou, to the extent that we can in a brief presentation. The Fon people of the former Dahomey, now Benin, carried the word vodun to St. Domingue, now Haiti, in the eighteenth century. The word signifies the divine, the mysteries, the dead. In Haiti, it has come to signify the entire belief system, along with its rituals. The yoruba term oluwa, shortened to lwa in Haitian Creole, has replaced vodun to signify the great spirits who have the power to possess the living. Vodouists use the metaphor of the cosmic mirror to map the divide between the physical and spiritual domains. They speak, too, of the mirror as the surface of the cosmic sea, a horizon beneath which the spirits live. Vodou rites open a passage through which spirits can enter the physical domain. The intersection of the passage and the horizon renders a cross symbol often seen in Vodou imagery. Possessions occur at this crossroads.

Vodouists speak of nasyon, taken from the French nation—in English, nation. They identify individual lwa as members of nations, most corresponding to ethnic groups of western Africa. Most of the ancestors of the Haitian people came from two regions of western Africa: the Guinea Gulf (modern Ghana, Benin, Togo, and Nigeria), and the Congo coast (modern Gabon, the two Congos, and Angola). Memory serves well in today’s recognition of two Vodou branches: Rada, embracing the Guinea Gulf nations; and Petwo, comprising the Congo nations. The branches distinguish themselves not only for their historical origins but also for their temperament. The lwa of the Rada nations are generally cool, balanced, somewhat formal, whereas the lwa of the Petwo nations are generally hot, volatile, spontaneous. Vodouists speak, too, of regleman, from the French règlement—in English, rule, in the sense of procedure. The regleman defines the order in which the Vodou congregation, called sosyete, ministers to the lwa. Servants follow an order of nations, and within each nation, an order of lwa. In Port-au-Prince, the capital and a place that has experienced massive in-migration from all corners of the country, the Rada branch precedes the Petwo in the regleman. Rites, in other words, move from cool to hot, formal to spontaneous. Along the way, music and dance change to mark the transitions from nation to nation.

The lwa Ountò traces his roots back to the Guinea region and the Fon people, who named their three sacred drums, in order of hierarchy, huntò, huntòji, and huntòñi (Anglade 1998:164). The prefix hun- signifies an object with spiritual power, therefore, the Fon consider the drums as vodun. Likewise, in Haiti today Vodouists baptize drums. They pour libations to them at the beginnings of services while singing from a repertory of songs specifically for the drums. Vodouists also recognize the musician as representative of Ountò. The drummer channels the power of the lwa and is often dedicated to him through formal initiation. Priests discourage possessions by Ountò because they would disrupt the ritual flow with an excess of virtuosity. Significantly, Ountò holds a position near the top of the regleman, along with the cosmic spirits of the Rada branch. Clearly, the service cannot come to life without this infinite heartbeat. Interestingly, the Petwo branch includes, like mirror images, several Rada lwa—Legba, Marasa, Danbala, Èzili, and Ountò. Inclusion of the drums in both spiritual branches testifies to their vitality.

Enslaved Africans reproduced many different species of drums in Haiti, but two basic types dominate today: Rada and Petwo, named after the two main spiritual branches. The drums mark the differences in meaning between these branches. Both types are single-headed and conical, but the Rada drum requires a hardwood body and cowskin head, while the Petwo takes a softwood body and goatskin head. One fastens the head of the Rada drum to the body with hard wood pegs called kòn or pikèt fixed at intervals of six or seven centimeters around the circumference. A hoop holds the head of the Petwo drum in place, and cords lace around the hoop, pass through a network of tourniquets, and anchor to the lower end of the body. Many sources mention only two Petwo drums, but we usually see three today. The functions of the three are similar between Rada and Petwo: the master drum, or manman (from “maman,” or mother), generates the most elaborate patterns; the second drum, or segon (from the French “second,” or second), plays counterpoint to the master; and the third drum, called boula in the Rada ensemble and kata in the Petwo, carries a crisp ostinato. Drummers play all three Rada drums and the Petwo kata with bagèt, or sticks, but they use hand drumming for the lead and second Petwo drums. A frame drum called bas or tambourin expands the drum ensemble and provides a basic pulse. Percussion instruments further expand the tonal palette: the ogan, an iron bell struck with an iron rod; the ason, a bead-covered gourd rattle used only in Rada rites; and the tcha-tcha, a seed-filled gourd rattle mounted on a handle for Petwo rites.

Traditionally, drummers have learned their art in context. Master Drummer Frisner Augustin, with whom I collaborated to write The Drums of Vodou, tells his story:

One day, I go to a Vodou ceremony, and I watch the way my uncle plays, and all the guys. And I keep watching. And the next time I go, I ask one of the guys, “Can I do something?” And I’m afraid to ask him that, because he’s bigger than me.
He says, “Frisner, can you do it? You think you can do it?”
I say, “Well, let me try.” I talk like that because I’m scared. This guy gives me the ogan. I play it, and I see that the guy doesn’t take it away from me. He still lets me play. And I say to myself, I’m good.
Later, I get tired of the ogan. I tell the guy on the boula, “Give me the boula.” And people are surprised. I say, “Listen, I do everything one at a time.” And later I say, “Let me do the segon now.”
The drummer says, “Frisner, now you want to do everything at once...”
The guy who plays the maman is watching me. He says, “Frisner, you want to play the maman, too?”
“No, not now, but I’m going to get it, soon.”
As soon as I tell the guy that, Ogou comes, you know, the spirit. Ogou is the master of this Vodou ceremony. And he’s very heavy. Ogou is my favorite lwa, and he’s happy to see me play the drum. He tells me, “Frisner, I’m going to get you to play for me...” The spirit tells the wife of the ougan [priest], “Keep Frisner in this house.”
She says, “Oh, yeah? Because this guy is young and knows how to play the drum, maybe my husband can initiate him...for Ountò, right?”
Ogou says, “Tell my horse I’m going to help him to help Frisner...”
Time passes. I am initiated. I learn how to play everything on the drum. On the Sunday morning that I come out, the master drummer tells me, “Frisner, I guess now you play the maman.”
Ogou comes right away. “No, Frisner is not ready for it. Frisner knows how to do it, but Frisner is not ready.”
But later, after they do a little ceremony for me, I play the maman. Now, I’m on the way to master drummer. (Wilcken 1992:110-11)

Ountò lives, then, in the drums and the drummers. The patterns of his ensemble begin with the cosmic heartbeat, the same slow pulse that dancers render visible in their bodies. Individual drum and percussion parts divide the slow pulse in halves (binary division) or in thirds (ternary division), and they may further divide the resulting pulses on a third level. The coincidence of binary and ternary division in Vodou music accounts for the label “polymeter” that many researchers have used. Let’s look at a simple example.

1. Begin by tapping a slow, even pulse with your foot. Follow me.
2. Now, clap three even mini-pulses on alternating slow pulses. Listen to me first. Now you clap.
3. Okay, now divide the remaining pulses evenly into two mini-pulses. Listen to me first.
4. So now we have five hand claps, a group of three plus a group of two. “One-two-three, four-five...”
5. Next, leave out the second clap. Listen. Now you do it.
6. Next, leave out the fourth clap. Like this. Your turn.
7. Finally, speed it up.

By now, you should recognize a “syncopated” rhythm common to African and African diaspora musics. The basic structure is formed from the alternating ternary and binary division of pulses.
The overall drum and percussion pattern, with its dense texture of twos-against-threes and its broad palette of hand and stick strokes, supports vocal melody. The typical penta- or hexatonic song consists of a few short phrases that shape the music to ritual activity. The conventions of responsorial singing—soloist and chorus in call and response—also serve this purpose, that is, the soloist can adapt the song to ritual needs by extending or curtailing the responsorial patterns. Texts generally characterize or invoke the lwa, like the song for Ountò with which I opened. The phrase “Tanbouye ba mwen son mwen,” or “Drummer, give me my sound” repeats twice, followed by the coda “Solèy lève,” or “The sun rises.” The singers can perform it many different ways, depending on the time it takes to accomplish libations, salutations, or the tracing of sacred diagrams. They can alternate the last two phrases before going back to the top. Let’s try it.
[Song demonstration, with dance movement]

By inviting him to participate, this seminar celebrating the Guadeloupian musician bestows a special honor on Ountò and his Vodou drum. It recognizes the shared history of Guadeloupe and Haiti. In the summer of 1802, envoys from Guadeloupe to St. Domingue disclosed the plan to re-institute slavery in all the colonies. The news triggered the final thrust for independence from the mountains of St. Domingue. Haiti still struggles for justice and autonomy, and her unyielding care for her African roots nourishes that struggle. Ountò beats his drum today in Vodou temples, theaters, recording studios, and seminars, from Port-au-Prince to Miami to New York to Montréal to Basse-Terre. Keep our ears tuned to the sound of the eternal heartbeat, and the sun will rise.

----------------------------

References

Anglade, Pierre
1998 Inventaire étymologique des termes créoles des Caraïbes d’origine africaine. Préface de Masegeta Hashema Bin Muzigwa. Paris et Montréal: L’Harmattan.

Wilcken, Lois
1992 The Drums of Vodou. Featuring Frisner Augustin. Tempe AZ: White Cliffs Media Company.