Destination

This capital's coastline is made of lava.

Moroni sits on an Indian Ocean island and has no beaches: its shore is a rocky volcanic coastline, almost without sand. Thirty square kilometres of city at twenty-nine metres above the sea, at the foot of an active 2,361-metre volcano. Everything here that looks tropical came after the rock.

· 8 min read
The old town's sea frontage under a loaded sky: a basalt retaining wall separates the water from a promenade, and behind it a mass of two- and three-storey coral-stone houses, whitewashed and blackened, with roof terraces, satellite dishes and palms between them; on the left stands a white arcaded minaret topped with a pale blue dome; behind, the wooded flank of the volcano rises in a gentle slope and disappears into low cloud.
The old town's sea frontage under a loaded sky: a basalt retaining wall separates the water from a promenade, and behind it a mass of two- and three-storey coral-stone houses, whitewashed and blackened, with roof terraces, satellite dishes and palms between them; on the left stands a white arcaded minaret topped with a pale blue dome; behind, the wooded flank of the volcano rises in a gentle slope and disappears into low cloud.Woodlouse·CC BY-SA 2.0

01 An island without sand

It is worth understanding why, because it explains the whole island. Ngazidja — the local name for Grande Comore, the largest of the country's three main islands — is geologically very young. On a young volcanic island there has not been time enough for the swell to grind lava into sand. What there is are flows that reached the sea and stopped there.

A lava flow reaching the sea seen from a height: a broad tongue of black and grey boulders fans down from ground of dark rock scattered with thin scrub and forms a point running into the water; the swell breaks white all along its edge, and to the right the sea shifts from pale turquoise over the shallows to deep blue; on the left, a stretch of dark sand and a few palms.
A Karthala flow stopped at the sea. That is the material the island's coast is made of.David Stanley / Wikimedia Commons / CC BY 3.0  · CC BY 3.0

02 At the foot of the volcano

The city sits on the western coast of Ngazidja, twenty-nine metres above sea level, across some thirty square kilometres. Behind it, without transition, Karthala begins to rise: 2,361 metres, an active shield volcano, with more than twenty recorded eruptions since the nineteenth century and the last in January 2007.

That proximity orders the city. Moroni cannot grow inland past a certain contour, because inland is a continuous slope climbing to the caldera. So it grows along the coast: north to Itsandra, Ntsoudjini, Ouellah, Bahani; south to Ikoni, Mvouni, Daoueni, Séléa. A line of settlements on a narrow strip between the rock and the water.

A bay seen from the shore with a leaning palm crossing the frame diagonally: in the foreground, a curving pale sand beach and shallow greenish water; behind, a low point on which a village of white and coloured two-storey houses lines up, with a dark stone frontage at the water's edge and palm groves behind; to the right, a dozen pirogues and small boats moored in the shallows, and above it all a blue sky with high, ragged cloud.
One of the few sandy coves, north of the city. Note the dark stone frontage: that is the usual edge.TheLizardQueen / Wikimedia Commons / CC BY 2.0  · CC BY 2.0

03 From six thousand to a hundred and eleven

The name means "at the river" — mroni in Shingazidja — and describes a modest origin. For centuries Moroni was one of many large settlements on the island, and not even the leading one: it shared the economic weight of the kingdom of Bambao with neighbouring Ikoni. Its prosperity as an Indian Ocean port is documented from at least the middle of the second millennium.

The leap is recent and can be dated precisely. In 1958 the town had 6,545 inhabitants. That same year the decision was taken to move the archipelago's capital here, and from then on it grew into the largest place in the country. In 2016 it was estimated at 111,326: seventeen times the 1958 figure.

That growth had to be resolved on thirty square kilometres of volcanic ground, with the sea in front and the slope behind. There is not much margin, and it shows: the old town is a compact maze of narrow alleys, and what is new has stacked up around it with hardly any open space.

A very narrow old-town alley, barely a metre wide: on the right, a wall of raw coral stone, grey and heavily eroded, covered in green moss, with a small wooden-shuttered window and a projecting slab above it as an eave; on the left, a rendered façade painted grey with a two-leaf wooden door of carved panels and a barred wrought-iron window; the ground is grey patterned tile and the alley continues into shadow.
An alley in the medina. The narrowness is not picturesque: it is what fitted between the rock and the water.Radosław Botev / Wikimedia Commons / CC BY 3.0 PL  · CC BY 3.0 PL

04 How you cover it

The city can be walked entire, and it should be walked slowly. The old town, the medina, is a maze of alleys and old buildings covered without a map, because a map is no use. Inside there are dated structures: the oldest of its mosques was built in 1427, and its minaret was added in 1921. It is the material record of when this city was rich.

The second thing to do is leave the city on the coast road — Route Nationale 1 passes through here — and watch the settlements follow one another on the same narrow strip. It is the best way to grasp that Moroni is not a city with suburbs, but a denser stretch of a continuous string.

A small cove seen from a height: the floor of the inlet is covered entirely in black lava pebbles and blocks, without sand, and a tongue of water runs in between two arms of dark rock; on the left, a headland covered in tall coconut palms, pandanus and dense vegetation, with a house roof showing among the palms; on the right, more black rock and scrub; beyond, the sea in grey-blue to the horizon, under a sky loaded with cloud.
The shore outside the old town: a whole cove of lava blocks, without a metre of sand, and coconut palms growing on top of the rock.Radosław Botev / Wikimedia Commons / CC BY-SA 4.0  · CC BY-SA 4.0

And a final warning, the same one this article opens with. If you come looking for the Indian Ocean of the postcards, you will have to go and find it. What Moroni offers is another thing: a city of dark stone on a young island, with an active volcano behind it and an old town that has been in the same place for six centuries.

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Last updated · reviewed by the FlowTravel desk
MR

María Reyes

Destinations editor · Flowtravel

María looks in every city for the decision that explains its shape.

Image credits
  • CoverWoodlouse / Wikimedia Commons / CC BY-SA 2.0Source
  • BodyDavid Stanley / Wikimedia Commons / CC BY 3.0Source  ·  CC BY 3.0
  • BodyTheLizardQueen / Wikimedia Commons / CC BY 2.0Source  ·  CC BY 2.0
  • BodyRadosław Botev / Wikimedia Commons / CC BY 3.0 PLSource  ·  CC BY 3.0 PL
  • BodyRadosław Botev / Wikimedia Commons / CC BY-SA 4.0Source  ·  CC BY-SA 4.0