I left Zanzibar, island of spices, To emigrate to UK, the land of opportunity.
Forsook the tropical sun For cold frigid weather. Left behind the warm ocean breeze For the wind-chill of winter. Abandoned white pristine beaches For brown muddy shores. Turned away from a turquoise ocean For polluted lakes.
Gave up mangoes, papaya, shokishoki, guava and duriani For apples, pears, grapes, peaches and cherries. Gave up white snapper and king fish For cod and sole. Gave up drinking coconut water straight from the coconut And settled for bottled water.
Left behind the street coffee seller For the office coffee pot. Left behind the exotic fragrance of spices For the pungent smell of sulphuric emissions.
Deprived of hearing the call to prayer For the sound of police and fire sirens.
Deprived of seeing women clad in mysterious black buibui For women dressed in jeans and miniskirts.
Deserted a slow relaxed pace of life For the fast lane. Gave up afternoon naps For gym workouts. Gave up riding a bicycle through the narrow streets For driving a car on the highways.
Discontinued a course on the coral marine life For a course in stress management.
Discarded mud and thatched dwellings For concrete and steel. Left behind a community-based life For a human zoo.
It makes me wonder Have I left my soul behind in Zanzibar?
My best memoirs of Zanzibar is the rhythm of the rain tapping on the metal roofs at night, while we cosily snuggle into our beds with endless horrifying thunders and flashes of lightning throughout the night!
woh ambuaka julna woh pipal ki chaauv aaj ujal kar rahe gaya mere sapna ka gau.
