The clapping. The throat singers. The drums. Starting slow with a steady drone. Then growling, gathering momentum like a stallion scraping the dirt, nostrils flaring. A bulbous scream expanding, underneath the skin of the high verses. Bursting forth. A flurry of hard strikes. Charging frenzies and screaming voices yanking you forward by the collar. Driving you on. Spicing your blood.
The music of war. Few forces can drive a man into the jaws of death. Fewer still can drive thousands.
Paddy Dobson
14th November 2022