01 Not a monument: six districts

The inscription was made under criteria (iii) and (iv) of the convention, with reference number 1768. For the traveller the practical translation is simple: you will find no ticket office, no opening hours, no signposted route. You will find lived-in districts where people live, and that is exactly the protected object.

02 What a medina here is made of

Moroni's is described as a maze of narrow alleys and old buildings, comparable — though smaller — to the old town of Lamu, on the Kenyan coast. That comparison is not incidental: these towns belong to the same Swahili cultural world that developed along the western Indian Ocean, and ceramic finds place these islands within that civilisation from the seventh to tenth centuries.

The material is coral stone. You see it the moment you look at a wall up close: a porous grey surface full of hollows, with moss gripping every cavity.

The date that best measures the age of the whole is on the oldest mosque in Moroni's medina, built in 1427, contemporary with the golden ages of the other Swahili cities. Its minaret is far later: it was added in 1921. A five-hundred-year-old building with a hundred-year-old top: that sums up fairly well how these old towns work.

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.
Coral stone on the right, render and a carved door on the left. That contrast of centuries is the whole medina.Radosław Botev / Wikimedia Commons / CC BY 3.0 PL·CC BY 3.0 PL

03 Why six and not one

Here is the fact that changes how you look. For centuries Moroni was not the leading town on its island: it was one of several, and it shared the economic and political weight of the kingdom of Bambao with neighbouring Ikoni, which was the royal capital. The list of six medinas is not a tourist compilation: it is the map of an archipelago organised around several centres at once.

That balance lasted until the end of the nineteenth century and broke fully much later: in 1958, when Moroni became the archipelago's capital, it had barely 6,545 inhabitants. The other five medinas are still there, in places that are small today, and that is why they keep a scale Moroni has lost.

A view from a height over an old town pressed against the sea: hundreds of one- and two-storey houses crowd together with hardly any gaps, with flat roof terraces and sheet-metal roofs in grey, blue, green and red, and the occasional white minaret showing between them; on the left, a quay with rows of stacked containers and a couple of moored ships; to the right and behind, the sea in deep blue with a paler band of reef along the shore, and on the horizon the blurred outline of another island.
The medina of Mutsamudu, on the island of Anjouan: one of the other five. The density of the fabric shows best from above.David Stanley / Wikimedia Commons / CC BY 2.0·CC BY 2.0

04 How to walk it

First, a warning the descriptions of the site make plainly: Moroni's old town is poorly maintained. Anyone arriving expecting a restored historic centre, with rehabilitated façades and new paving, will be disappointed. What there is are coral walls eaten by damp, blown render and modern concrete stitched on top.

Second: do not attempt an itinerary. The medina is described precisely as a maze, and the alleys are barely a metre or so wide. The way to cover it is to enter anywhere, get lost for a while and come out wherever you can. Save your attention for the details: the carved wooden doors, the pierced screens, the slabs cantilevered over the windows.

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 medina from the seafront. From outside you grasp the shape; from inside, the material.Woodlouse / Wikimedia Commons / CC BY-SA 2.0·CC BY-SA 2.0

And third, the recommendation that really justifies this article: do not stop at Moroni's. Itsandra and Ikoni are a few kilometres away on the coast road, and Ntsoudjini a little further north. Seeing two or three in a row in the same day is the only way to understand why the inscription covers six and not one: what repeats across them all is the argument.

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Lucía Montes

Worth Knowing editor · Flowtravel

Lucía chases the fact that changes how you look at a place.