At the 2008 Bundagen camp with Epizo Bangoura, the skin popped on a friend's drum. I always take two drums, so I told her to play mine. The following morning, I took my drum and propped it up on a plastic chair outside in the sun to let it warm up a bit and, while I was at it, I took out my second drum and did the same.
I walked off for breakfast and, a few minutes later, someone came over to me and said "Michi, is that your drum over there with the yellow rope?" I go "Yes, why?". "It's making strange noises. Sounds like it might break soon."
I had a fairly new skin on the drum, and it wasn't tuned particularly high, so I thought that was unlikely. I finished breakfast and, by the time class started, I had forgotten all about it.
We are about half-way through the morning class, and it was one of the quiet moments where Epizo was explaining something. About 40 drummers sitting in a huge circle under a marquee. Suddenly, Helen, who was playing my second drum sat there and exlaimed "This drum is making strange noises, I think it's going to break. Epizo stopped in mid-sentence and everyone was staring at her. Epizo asked "What do you mean, it's going to break?" "Well, it's making these weird noises."
She was staring at the drum as if she was afraid of it. Then Malin Sylla came out from behind the dunduns, grabbed the drum off her, gave it three really hard bangs and said "No, this one is definitely not going to break" and handed the drum back to Helen, who was staring at it as if it were possessed by a demon. Everyone had a good laugh, and Helen sat for the remainder of the class playing the drum as if it was about to turn around and bite her hands off.
After lunch, someone picked up the drum to look at the rope work and, lo and behold, a horse fly comes buzzing out of the bottom...
I still pity that fly, being trapped inside that djembe for hours with someone setting up major shock waves around it several times a second

Cheers,
Michi.