Big Drummer Boyz

:: Posted on 12 Jan 09, but backdated to account for the chronology of our travels over the last three weeks ::

Our second stop was another beach resort back toward Accra, called Big Milly’s Backyard. There may have been a Big Milly at one time, but now the resort is run by a diminutive British woman named Wendy. Our purpose in this stop was to enjoy a community known for drumming and perhaps partake in some musical and rhythmic pursuits for a couple days before picking up our friend, Pam, at the airport on Tuesday evening.

The first day, we mostly walked up and down the beach, shopped for fabric, and rested in the room between run-ins with the ketchup Nazi at the resort restaurant (he wouldn't let us hold the ketchup bottle and insisted on doling it out quite miserly). On the second day, however, we arranged for a drumming lesson at just about dark. It was beginning to cool off and the Rastafarians were good and mellow from an entire day on the beach with the biggest “cigars” I have ever seen. Cheech & Chong would have been so jealous.

Anyway, we sat down and learned three different rhythm sequences from a cool Rasta man with one side of missing front teeth on both top and bottom. Another guy, called Ellis, joined us and was really chatting us up about how he had just returned from upstate New York and was going back to the US in March and needed to build a network there – yada yada.

The next morning, Leslie decided she needed a drum to bring home, so we went back to the drum shop and bought one. We ran into our drumming instructor and he offered to run through everything one more time at no charge to make sure we had it down. I think they enjoyed teaching us – we weren’t bad, if I do say so – probably because of our musical backgrounds. Anyway, we played drums for another ½ hour or so before saying our goodbyes and receiving an e-mail address from Ellis so we could send him a copy of the photo we took. Then we proceeded to Accra to check into our hotel and pick up Pam at the airport.

Pam’s flight came in after 8:00 so it was already dark, and it was December 30th so the airport was busy. As it was difficult to find parking, Leslie went to find Pam and I stayed with the truck, double parked in the lot. When they came back, Leslie said the drummer guy was there, at the airport. I said that was an interesting coincidence – and she said, “No you don’t understand. It wasn’t a coincidence. He was there hoping to see us.”

That was just a little too weird, but if anybody wants a very nice, cute, Rasta drummer boy with all his teeth, let us know – we can introduce you (he's the one on the right).
XO