Stone Town is the soul of Zanzibar,

It’s atmospheric, historic, bizarre.

You can wander around the labyrinthine streets,

Where vendors hawk coffee or sweetmeats.

You’ll see life in the raw at every turn,

Schoolkids given suras from the Koran to learn.

Old mansions from the colonial epoch,

With overhanging verandahs set on top.

Women who gossip at the corner store,

A mix of every kind of decor,

Courtyard houses with an Arabic bent,

Indian balconies with a carved pediment.

A  marketplace, an eastern bazaar,

A musician playing acoustic guitar.

You lose all track of place and time,

It’s an existential paradigm.

But you really cannot get lost there,

All alleys lead straight to the main road or square.