Taarab: The Music That "Moves the Heart" in Zanzibar
Born at a sultan's court and made famous by a former slave's daughter, taarab blends Swahili poetry with Arab, Indian and African sounds. Here is its story.

On a warm evening in Stone Town, an orchestra settles onto a stage: violins, an oud, a qanun (a kind of zither), a double bass, hand drums. A woman steps forward, raises a microphone and begins to sing in Swahili — a slow, ornamented melody about love, jealousy and betrayal. In the audience, someone stands, walks up and presses a banknote into her hand, then dances back to their seat. This is taarab, the signature music of Zanzibar and the Swahili coast.
A name from the heart
The word taarab comes from Arabic, and in Swahili it is usually explained as music that "moves the heart" — that brings joy, longing or delight. That is exactly its aim. Taarab is above all sung poetry: the words matter as much as the melodies, and lyrics are often written by skilled poets using the rich imagery of classical Swahili verse.
From the sultan's court
Taarab's origins are usually traced to the court of Sultan Barghash bin Said, who ruled Zanzibar in the late 19th century, before the island became a British protectorate in 1890. A lover of music, he invited Egyptian performers to his palace and paid for Zanzibari players to train in Cairo. Those players came home carrying new instruments and the sound of Egypt's orchestral song.
From the palace, the music spread into the town. Music clubs formed — the oldest surviving one, Ikhwani Safaa, was founded in 1902 — and Zanzibaris began writing songs in Swahili rather than Arabic. Over time, taarab absorbed influences from India (through film music and harmonium), from African drumming and dance, and later from Western pop.
Siti binti Saad: the voice that changed everything
The most important figure in taarab's history was a woman: Siti binti Saad (c. 1880–1950). Born in a rural village to parents of slave ancestry, she moved to Zanzibar Town, where her extraordinary voice brought her fame. In the late 1920s, she travelled to Bombay (Mumbai) to make records — among the first commercial recordings by an East African artist. They sold across the region.
Siti sang in Swahili, for ordinary people, and her songs often criticised injustice, including the treatment of women under the law. She proved that taarab belonged not only to the elite but to everyone — and she opened the way for generations of women singers.
Bi Kidude, the queen
Siti's tradition was carried forward by many singers, but none became as legendary as Bi Kidude, who performed into extreme old age (her exact birth year is unknown, but she was believed to be around 100 when she died in 2013). Small, fierce and famously fond of cigarettes, she sang and drummed with the Culture Musical Club, Zanzibar's leading taarab orchestra, founded in 1958, and toured festivals around the world.
Taarab at weddings
Taarab is, above all, wedding music. Women's wedding celebrations in Zanzibar and along the coast often feature taarab bands, and the songs are full of messages. A guest who wants to make a point — to praise the bride, tease a rival or warn a husband — may go up and tip the singer at a well-chosen line, so everyone knows which words she means. The music becomes a public conversation.
Modern taarab
From the 1970s, a faster, electric style called "modern taarab" developed in Dar es Salaam, Mombasa and Tanga, with keyboards, electric guitars and dancing. Its lyrics, often called mipasho, are known for sharp, witty insults exchanged in poetic code. Purists sometimes disapprove; fans love it.
Like the Kiswahili language itself, taarab is a meeting point of African, Arab and Indian Ocean cultures — and it is unmistakably Swahili.
Why it matters
Taarab shows how music can travel, settle and become something entirely local. It began as an imported court entertainment and became the voice of ordinary Zanzibaris — especially women, who have used it to sing about love, power and injustice for a century. Hear one song in Stone Town, with violins sighing and a singer drawing out a line of Swahili poetry, and you will understand why its name means "to move the heart."
Further reading
- AramcoWorld — The heart-moving sound of Zanzibar (2025)
- PAM — Taarab in Zanzibar, the back of the postcard
- Laura Fair, Pastimes and Politics: Culture, Community, and Identity in Post-Abolition Urban Zanzibar (Ohio University Press, 2001)

