Anansi and the Talking Drum

Gathered from the oral traditions of the Akan people of Ghana

Listen well, children of the speaking world, for I shall tell you of the time when Anansi discovered the secret of the talking drum, and learned that the power to spread words far and wide comes with the weight of great responsibility. This tale comes from the days when messages traveled only as fast as human feet could carry them, and when news from distant villages was as rare as rain in the dry season.

In the village of Akyem, there lived a master drummer named Kwame whose skill with the traditional drums was legendary throughout the region. His hands could make the drums speak in the ancient language of beats and rhythms, conveying complex messages across vast distances to those who knew how to interpret their voice. But Kwame’s greatest treasure was a drum unlike any other – a sacred instrument carved from the heartwood of a tree that had been struck by lightning and blessed by the spirits.

This drum, which Kwame called Odompem (The Speaker), had been passed down through his family for seven generations. It was said that when played by one with pure intent and deep understanding, Odompem could carry messages not just across miles, but directly into the hearts and minds of those who needed to hear them.

Kwame was a careful guardian of Odompem’s power. He used it only for the most important communications – warnings of danger, calls for help, announcements of births and deaths, and messages that could save lives or unite communities. “The drum’s voice is sacred,” he would tell his students. “It must never be used for idle chatter or selfish purposes.”

Now it happened that Anansi the spider, always curious about powerful objects, heard rumors of this miraculous talking drum. His eight eyes gleamed with interest as he imagined all the things he could accomplish with such a tool. “Think of the possibilities!” he said to himself. “I could spread my stories to every corner of the world instantly! I could become the most famous storyteller who ever lived!”

One evening, as Kwame was teaching a group of young drummers the sacred rhythms, Anansi crept close to observe. The master drummer was demonstrating a complex pattern that represented a call for unity among neighboring villages.

“Each beat has meaning,” Kwame explained to his students. “Each rhythm carries intention. When we play Odompem, we are not making music – we are speaking directly to the spirits and to the hearts of our people.”

Anansi watched, fascinated, as Kwame’s skilled hands brought forth a series of beats that seemed to pulse with life itself. The drum’s voice was rich and deep, carrying undertones that seemed to vibrate in the very bones of those who heard it.

“Master Kwame,” asked one young student, “how does the drum know where to send its messages?”

Kwame smiled and patted the sacred instrument gently. “Odompem responds to the drummer’s intent. If your heart is clear and your purpose is true, the drum will carry your message to exactly those who need to hear it. But if your intentions are selfish or harmful, the drum will remain silent, no matter how skillfully you play.”

This information intrigued Anansi greatly. A drum that responded to intent? This was even more interesting than he had thought. That night, while the village slept, Anansi crept into Kwame’s hut where Odompem rested in a place of honor.

“Akwaaba, great drum,” Anansi whispered, approaching the instrument with what he thought was appropriate reverence. “I am Kwaku Anansi, teller of tales and bringer of wisdom. Surely you and I could work together to spread important messages throughout the land.”

The drum remained silent, its polished surface gleaming in the moonlight that filtered through the hut’s window.

Anansi placed his legs gently on the drumhead and began to tap out a rhythm he had observed Kwame using. But instead of the rich, resonant tones he expected, only ordinary drum sounds emerged – loud enough to wake the entire village.

Within moments, Kwame burst into the hut, followed by several concerned villagers. “Anansi!” the master drummer exclaimed. “What are you doing with Odompem?”

“I was just… testing its capabilities,” Anansi said, trying to look innocent. “I thought perhaps I could help spread some important messages.”

Kwame’s expression grew stern. “Odompem is not a toy to be tested, spider. It is a sacred instrument that chooses its own masters. Clearly, it has not chosen you.”

“But why?” Anansi asked, genuinely puzzled. “I have important things to say! My stories could benefit people everywhere!”

An old woman named Nana Efua, who was known for her wisdom, stepped forward. “Tell me, Anansi,” she said gently, “when you approached the drum, what was in your heart? What did you hope to gain?”

Anansi thought carefully before answering. “I wanted to become famous throughout the land for my storytelling. I wanted everyone to know how clever I am.”

“Ah,” said Nana Efua, nodding knowingly. “And there lies your answer. Odompem speaks only for those whose first thought is for others, not for themselves.”

“But my stories do help others!” Anansi protested. “They teach important lessons!”

“That may be true,” Kwame replied, “but your intention was not to help others – it was to glorify yourself. Odompem can feel the difference.”

Over the following days, Anansi observed Kwame more carefully, paying attention not just to how he played the drum, but to why he played it. He watched as the master drummer used Odompem to warn distant villages of an approaching storm, to call for healers when a child fell seriously ill, and to announce the safe return of travelers who had been feared lost.

In each case, Anansi noticed, Kwame’s focus was entirely on the people who needed the message. The drummer never seemed to think about his own reputation or skill – only about serving his community’s needs.

“I think I understand now,” Anansi said to himself. “It’s not about what I want to say, but about what others need to hear.”

The next opportunity to test this understanding came when Anansi discovered that a bridge over a dangerous river had been damaged by recent floods. Travelers were unknowingly approaching the broken bridge, and some could be seriously injured or even killed if they attempted to cross it.

Anansi hurried to find Kwame, but discovered that the master drummer had been called away to a distant village and would not return for several days. The danger was immediate, and there was no time to wait.

Swallowing his pride, Anansi approached Odompem again. But this time, instead of thinking about his own desires, he focused entirely on the travelers who were in danger. He pictured families who would be devastated if their loved ones were hurt. He imagined children waiting for parents who might never come home.

“Great Odompem,” he said softly, “I don’t seek fame or recognition. I only want to warn those who are in danger. Please, help me save lives.”

This time, when Anansi placed his legs on the drumhead, something magical happened. The drum seemed to guide his movements, teaching him the rhythms he needed. The beats that emerged were clear and urgent, carrying the unmistakable message of danger and the need for caution.

Across the land, travelers heard the drum’s warning and understood its message. They stopped, investigated the path ahead, and discovered the damaged bridge. Lives were saved because Anansi had learned to put others before himself.

When Kwame returned and learned what had happened, he was amazed. “Odompem allowed you to play it?” he asked incredulously.

“Only when I stopped thinking about myself and started thinking about others,” Anansi replied. “The drum taught me that true communication isn’t about making yourself heard – it’s about making sure others receive what they need.”

Kwame nodded approvingly. “You have learned a sacred lesson, spider. But remember – with this power comes great responsibility. Every message you send out into the world has consequences. Every word you spread can heal or harm.”

“I understand,” Anansi said solemnly. “I want to learn more about using this gift properly.”

And so began Anansi’s apprenticeship with Kwame and Odompem. The spider learned not just the technical rhythms of drum communication, but the deeper principles that governed its use. He studied the ethics of spreading information, the responsibility of choosing what messages to amplify, and the importance of verifying truth before broadcasting it to the world.

Under Kwame’s guidance, Anansi learned to use the talking drum to share stories that truly served others – tales that warned of dangers, taught valuable lessons, brought comfort to the grieving, and united communities in times of need. He discovered that when his intent was pure, his messages reached exactly the people who needed to hear them, often in ways that seemed miraculous.

One day, a young girl in a distant village who had been struggling with feelings of worthlessness heard one of Anansi’s drummed stories about the value of small actions. The message gave her courage to help an injured bird, which led to her discovering her gift for healing, which eventually made her the most respected medicine woman in her region.

Another time, Anansi’s drummed tale about the importance of forgiveness reached a man who had been consumed with anger toward his brother. The story moved him to reconcile, and their renewed partnership saved their village from famine through their combined skills and resources.

“You see,” Kwame told Anansi after hearing about these successes, “when we use our gifts in service of others, the effects ripple outward in ways we could never have planned or imagined. This is the true magic of Odompem – not just that it can carry messages far, but that it can carry them to exactly the hearts that need to be touched.”

As the years passed, Anansi became known not as the spider who sought fame through the talking drum, but as the spider who used it to weave a web of connection and compassion across the land. His drummed stories brought isolated communities together, carried healing wisdom to those who suffered, and reminded people of their shared humanity.

When Kwame grew old and it came time for him to pass on the guardianship of Odompem, he chose Anansi as his successor. “You have learned the most important lesson,” the old master said. “You understand that true power lies not in making yourself heard, but in ensuring that the right words reach the right hearts at the right time.”

Anansi accepted the responsibility with deep humility. He had sought the talking drum for glory and discovered instead the profound joy of service. He had wanted to make himself famous and learned instead to make himself useful.

From that day forward, Anansi continued to guard and use Odompem with the same wisdom and care that Kwame had shown. And whenever young people came to him seeking to learn the drum’s secrets, he would always begin with the same lesson: “The drum will teach you to speak across great distances, but first you must learn to listen to your own heart. For until you understand your true intentions, your words will carry no power at all.”

Asɛm a ɛhyia dɔm no mfira – Words that unite people should be carefully chosen.

This tale teaches us that true communication requires not just the ability to speak, but the wisdom to know what needs to be said and why. In Akan culture, talking drums were indeed used for long-distance communication, and their use was governed by strict protocols and deep spiritual understanding. The story reminds us that in our modern age of instant global communication, the principles of responsible messaging remain as relevant as ever.