Aug 2014
You ignite the papaya scent
of Zanzibar romances
spiced woods behind ears
seducing the body's non-senses
like kisses enticed from hints
formed in a humid land
kneading your cat pad toes
into my kicked off sandals
soft sinking
warm as sand spreading
on golden embers
smoking like a slow glowing dhow
sailing wine tumblers
spilling Matemwe beach rays
of crystal rain in sunshine
tinkling against my skin
like the random meditation
in wind chimes
tuned by the slight twitch
of Mnemba Atoll frangipani
to unwind my fire
into an isle of leaves
singing sunny
somewhere mysterious
through winding alleyways
we kissed on shady curves
sprung open
on to Stone Town seas
your weather
beaten hair
waving in Forodhani Gardens
showered into labyrinthine storms
travelled blue-black horizons
infused with times
of thunder roaming
lost in alluring plans
mindful I look back to check
your coral stone directions
we swept into an unclipped tent
of Salamah **** Saïd's
eating hot shwarma
like I was the Sultan and you princess
your attractions slipping a cargo off
of precious unguent wet essentials
drying to flow a silken scarf
around Darajani Market thrills
floating in a dark continent
on each kiss to my needy neck
leaning in the white wake
of Zani-bar dreams
which seek
to push the boat out
on your shoulder
once you're moored
on to my arms
longing for you
swaying now
under sweating hot
Gizenga road palms
of Zanzibar romances
spiced woods behind ears
seducing the body's non-senses
like kisses enticed from hints
formed in a humid land
kneading your cat pad toes
into my kicked off sandals
soft sinking
warm as sand spreading
on golden embers
smoking like a slow glowing dhow
sailing wine tumblers
spilling Matemwe beach rays
of crystal rain in sunshine
tinkling against my skin
like the random meditation
in wind chimes
tuned by the slight twitch
of Mnemba Atoll frangipani
to unwind my fire
into an isle of leaves
singing sunny
somewhere mysterious
through winding alleyways
we kissed on shady curves
sprung open
on to Stone Town seas
your weather
beaten hair
waving in Forodhani Gardens
showered into labyrinthine storms
travelled blue-black horizons
infused with times
of thunder roaming
lost in alluring plans
mindful I look back to check
your coral stone directions
we swept into an unclipped tent
of Salamah **** Saïd's
eating hot shwarma
like I was the Sultan and you princess
your attractions slipping a cargo off
of precious unguent wet essentials
drying to flow a silken scarf
around Darajani Market thrills
floating in a dark continent
on each kiss to my needy neck
leaning in the white wake
of Zani-bar dreams
which seek
to push the boat out
on your shoulder
once you're moored
on to my arms
longing for you
swaying now
under sweating hot
Gizenga road palms
In 1866, the vivacious Princess Salamah **** Sa'id of Zanzibar eloped with a German merchant and eventually settled with him in Hamburg.
The promiscuity of men and women passengers, sleeping together on the deck during her first journey to Europe, was just one of the many cultural shocks she would have to overcome in the course of her exile. Bland food, pork meat, people's excessive drinking, Hamburg's concentration of blond people difficult to distinguish one from the other for an untrained eye, names impossible to remember, people hurrying in the streets, others constantly scrubbing the floor of their dwelling while bathing only once a week in a ***** bathtub, because showers and running water were not the norm in these parts, women wearing most uncomfortable corsets and stiffened petticoat, small rooms, thick curtains, dark rooms, closed doors and an over-abundance of gadgets in the kitchens: the list is endless of the things that struck her as highly puzzling.
A contrasting role-reversal of modern tourism to her home country.
The promiscuity of men and women passengers, sleeping together on the deck during her first journey to Europe, was just one of the many cultural shocks she would have to overcome in the course of her exile. Bland food, pork meat, people's excessive drinking, Hamburg's concentration of blond people difficult to distinguish one from the other for an untrained eye, names impossible to remember, people hurrying in the streets, others constantly scrubbing the floor of their dwelling while bathing only once a week in a ***** bathtub, because showers and running water were not the norm in these parts, women wearing most uncomfortable corsets and stiffened petticoat, small rooms, thick curtains, dark rooms, closed doors and an over-abundance of gadgets in the kitchens: the list is endless of the things that struck her as highly puzzling.
A contrasting role-reversal of modern tourism to her home country.
