By MICHAEL OKEMA

There is a resurgence of interest in taarab music. As the name suggests, it has an Arab origin. The word taarab is derived from the Kiswahili word "ustaarabu", literally meaning "to become Arab", also meaning "civilisation". Because at one point Arab culture represented civilisation, to become Arab meant to be civilised.

A typical taarab group uses instruments from the Arab world, although contact with Europe has brought in the violin and the accordion. Since the Arabs settled mainly along the East African coast from the 14th century, taarab has come to typify coastal culture.

For this reason, the greater the Arab influence, the closer the taarab resembles Arab music proper. Little wonder, then, that taarab from Zanzibar is essentially Arab music, only that the melody is sung in Kiswahili.

On the mainland, however, there is greater modification, bringing in Bantu infusion in terms of rhythm. European influence on mainland taarab is seen in the electric guitar and the organ. This is not to suggest that such instruments are absent from the Zanzibari variety. They stand alongside the violin and the accordion. On the other hand, the latter two are rare on the mainland.

This difference is a reflection of the period of the first effective contact with Europe. Zanzibar's regular contacts with Europe in the 19th century brought the violin and the accordion. As for the mainland, this had to wait until the advent of colonialism, during which period the electric guitar was invented, in 1954 to be precise.

It would appear taarab is the resort of those who cannot cope with new tastes. While it is the children of the elite who relish rap and hip hop, taarab has found acceptance among the people of the townships.

With the demise of local bands, their fans have, by and large, thrown their lot in with taarab. These are the people responsible for the new-found glory of taarab.

Another reason is the provocative nature of taarab songs. They are about every day problems of life, especially jealousy in love. Anybody would find it easy to relate to any song.

To make it more interesting, each song draws a response from another taarab group. If one group writes a song about a wife warning another woman to keep off her husband, another group responds on behalf of the concubine advising the wife to tame her husband instead. Of late, however, the war has been reduced to between rival taarab groups themselves rather than imaginary people.

Taarab is so important that its songs never face censorship, unlike popular bands. When Remmy Ongala referred to condoms as "socks", this was considered obscene and the song banned. On the other hand, when the Tanzania One Theatre taarab group referred to love-making as "pounding a mortar", officialdom looked the other way.

There are powerful people up there giving taarab a respectable image. When a taarab festival was staged in Dar on February 26, bagging a record Tsh12 million ($15,000) in gate collections, ministers and senior officials of the ruling Chama cha Mapinduzi attended. One of the most renown composers of taarab songs is Mudhihir M. Mudhihir, the Deputy Minister for Lands, Housing and Urban Development, a man who hails from the coastal area in southern Tanzania.