
For a small nation, Comoros has a diverse mix in its history—and today it is the only state that’s a member of the Africa Union, Francophonue, the Organisation of the Islamic Conference, the Arab League AND the Indian Ocean Commission.

who dominated and religion and architecture reflect that influence.
Of course, in the mean time, Europeans got in on the action too—the Portuguese visited Comoros in the 16th century, while they were up to their explorations, and until the Suez Canal was opened Comoros was a stopping point for those sailing to and from India. Meanwhile, Comorians didn’t export much—except coconuts. But who doesn’t love a coconut now and then? But then the French came along, and established plantations of ylang-ylang, coffee, cocoa, sisal and—my favourite—vanilla. Yum. Comoros was officially a French colony from 1912 until its independence—the agreement was reached in 1973, though it was meant to take effect in 1978. Until, that is, the Comorian parliament passed a resolution in 1975 declaring independence. Itchy feet, and good for them.
Follow independence, though, there’s been a great deal of political turmoil in the form of multiple coup d’états. The first few months saw three different presidents—and Ali Soilih who lasted three years was the subject of seven attempted coups before one succeeded and he was killed. His replacement, Ahmed Abdallah (the initial president) brought with him authoritarian rule. After just over ten years in office, Abdallah was killed in 1989 and Soilih’s half-brother Mohamed Djohar came to power, leading the nation until an attempted coup in 1995. It didn’t stop there—two islands declared independence from Comoros in 1997 and tried to restore French rule—but France said no. More coups and attempted coups followed—since independence there have been over 20 in 33 years.
I had some trouble finding a poem from Comoros that had been translated—in the end I’ve decided to use a poem that remains untranslated from the French, written by the poet Adjmaël Halidi. It is a from a longer sequence—the whole is available online here.
Au plus grand poète des Lunes Saindoune, Ben Ali
1 CYCLES NOCTURNES
Oh silence pourrissoir
Temps quadruple de cruauté
: tel Nocher le mentor en transe
berce de ses mains walkyries la Chance
tympan sur panse bénie par Cybèle
il guette sentent la tachycardie
la stryge en cadence danse d’anses
: hématurie et hurrahs …eaux denses
: hématurie douce layette fœtale.
Ô plus de Chance chance de sûre vie
Oh Chance dans les limbes les viocs sont aux anges
Parfois lycanthropie
n’est plus un mythe.
D’autrefois les humanoïdes
désertent la fiction.
Une preuve ! Interroges
Les fosses d’aisances d’îles-lune.
— Adjmaël Halidi
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