DRUMMING FOR PEACE
Many people who know me know that my formative years were lived in a very small community in the Upper Fraser Canyon region of the Province of British Columbia, Canada. It was and is a hamlet, where non-indigenous people worked for the railway or in the forest industry, ran the aerial ferry, did haircuts and managed mail services … there might have been a population of 350 back then, and much less now. The Indigenous people were sequestered ‘on the other side of the tracks” mostly; some enrolled in school; some participated in community events; but, for the most part, they kept to themselves due to the impact of colonialism, racism and degrading attitudes.
The mystery behind all of that was very hush hush and never explained in school. Nevertheless, I noticed; I was curious; I was dumbfounded. I wanted to turn things around and make them better, but the dream was much like fighting Goliath. I wanted to be like David — the young man who hit Goliath with a stone from a sling and defeated him.
The very first time I was invited to an actual drum circle, I was an adult in a job that connected to a lot of Indigenous things. I had had no instruction and no direction. I was handed a drum and began tapping it ever so lightly trying my best to follow the beat of other drummers. They seemed to really know what they were doing.
It took a while for me to settle in that circle of drummers, but I remember deciding to make the experience work for me. I wasn’t playing any particular tune; I was releasing a tempo of energy that was clearly locked inside of me from childhood. My mind focused on my early memories of living in North Bend and living within the clear separation of ‘us and them’. I did not like it; I did not understand it; and, I vowed to never play along.
That first drumming experience became a mind boggling experience. I could feel the very real connection of my heartbeat and my mind, as my two hands tapped lightly and heavily, slowly and quickly, as though I was telling a story with an introduction, development and a powerful ending. It was all impulse driven.
As I released energy, I developed energy. As I played, I listened. I visualized. I smiled; I cried. I closed my eyes and opened them. I was part of a group, but I was my own island. In a way, I think on that occasion, it might have been a version of being high on a substance. The substance was all about history, Indigenous history, and my vision of how it was and how I wanted it to become. The more I drummed, the more I felt my neural pathways open up and clear out. As I got to the end of the rendition, I felt relieved and relaxed. I had released the anger and stress that had been bottled up inside for so long. It strengthened my resolve to continue to do my bit to support reconciliation efforts in any way possible.
As my tapping hands began to slow down, my eyes opened. I looked around at the other drummers. They were all like-minded people respecting the drum as a symbol of community and communication. The focus of their minds were not necessarily on the same wavelength as mine, but that did not and does not matter. We had all been releasing energy and gaining energy through body movements, intuition, cognitive thinking and connectivity. The experience was powerful and real, casual and calming; personally revealing and relaxing — personal and group therapy at its finest.
As September 30th (National Truth and Reconciliation Day) approaches, Canadians once again receive an opportunity to learn, appreciate and understand Indigenous history from their life experiences and that of their elders. Indigenous people are stepping forward to help us through the learning process, hosting us, inviting us, talking to us, showing us and sharing with us. They are a proud people — survivors of evil, of lying, cheating and misrepresentation. They have not lost hope, and neither have I.
I am so happy that I am no longer feeling alone on this mission to set things right. My drum keeps beating on the Indigenous file, as every year more and more people are getting on board to make things right. Recognizing past wrongs is one big step forward, and seeing the progress that has been made since my youth, has been heartwarming and beautifully rhythmic. Let’s keep it going and growing. Maybe one day September 30th will be named our National Day to celebrate Reconciliation and Peace.
Written by Antoinetta DeWit
August 2026
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