Men drum for healing, brotherhood, social harmony

The steady rhythm of hammers striking rawhide echoed through the Assiniboine Food Forest over the weekend, blending with birdsong and late summer air.

Each knock against a drum frame carried weight — the sound of men building instruments, but also something deeper: community.

At the 100 Men with 100 Drums gathering, men from across Manitoba and beyond came together for a weekend of ceremony, teachings, meals and fellowship.

The gathering is for men of all nations to connect and reflect on what it means to be a man today, convener Jason Gobeil told the Sun.

“When I look at what’s missing in society, it’s the support for our men — our fathers, our uncles, our brothers,” he said. “This is about coming together across all nations, all cultures and healing together safely.”

For Abebayoh Kena, originally from Ethiopia, the gathering was about reflection as much as learning.

“As a man, I’ve always been searching for my purpose,” he said. “How do we reconcile the expectations of society, family and community with the voice that comes from within? Here, we can share, grow and create that ripple effect in our communities.”

Kena said the drum-making workshop touched a familiar chord.

“In my culture, drums connect generations. They add rhythm and harmony to society. If you’re off-key, it’s chaotic. The drum teaches us to live in rhythm with ourselves, our families and even with nature,” he said.

For Charles Ebri, from Nigeria, the gathering echoed traditions of home.

“The title alone — 100 Men with 100 Drums — was igniting,” he said. “It made me think about Africa, where when men come together by the fireside, it is to bond, to lift one another, and to set the rhythm for the community.”

Ebri said the drum is far more than an instrument.

“Where I come from, the drum speaks a language understood by both humans and spirits. It calls warriors, celebrates victories, mourns losses and unites the village. Tears are released, laughter is shared and men hold each other accountable. That is what I see happening here.”

He added that men need safe spaces to release emotions they are often told to suppress.

“Men are always told not to cry. But tears are like explosives if you bottle them up. Here, men can cry, they can release. One man holds the other upright, and together, they rise.”

From the Fisher River Cree Nation in Manitoba, Greg Murdock described the drum as a spiritual tool.

“When you hit the drum in the east, west, north, or south, the spirits in those directions hear us and come,” he explained. “The drum calls them to help us.”

Murdock, who counsels First Nations communities, said sharing knowledge through drum-making is part of a healing journey.

“Through colonization, many of our people lost this way of life. When we lose that, we disconnect from the Creator. Making drums, sharing stories, and ceremony reconnect us to who we are and to the Creator again,” Murdock added.

As the knocking of rawhide against wood slowly gave way to the deeper thrum of finished drums, men raised their voices in song.

For Gobeil, that unity was the dream all along.

“We all share that heartbeat,” he said. “Across cultures, the drum connects us to ceremony, to prayer, to song. When we beat together in unison, we find strength. The only way forward is walking this path together.”

For participants like Kena, Ebri, and Murdock, the gathering was more than a weekend — it was a call.

“This is not just about us,” Kena reflected. “It’s about the people we live with, about nature, about creating a generational impact. That is the power of gathering.”

“The drum is a language, a heartbeat, a bond,” Ebri said. “When it sounds, it calls men to rise.”

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