There can be no secrets on Zanzibar. The capital, Stone Town, is an intimate labyrinth of narrow streets where the people live cheek by jowl. Women share confidences from behind colourful veils, while bearded men twist through the crush on noisy mopeds en route to the mosque.
It is no secret then that beneath the picture-postcard image of azure seas and Arabian mystery, the turbulent winds of political change are again blowing on these enigmatic isles.
Calls for greater autonomy for Zanzibar, which united with Tanganyika to form Tanzania in 1964, are becoming louder and more frequent. While a split is improbable, it is not impossible.
"Zanzibaris are bloody well fed up. We are supposed to be benefiting from the union, but I'd like to see how," said a Zanzibari High Court judge, Mr Wolfango Dourado. "Nobody wants to split, but if they go on at this rate they will."
Discontent on Zanzibar and its sister island, Pemba, also known as the Spice Isles, has been simmering for years. But the death last month of the Tanzanian father figure, Julius Nyerere, who was seen as the "superglue" that bonded the islands to the mainland, has sparked a fresh wave of debate.
Now the union he defended so doggedly is in danger of coming unstuck. Political opposition has crystallised behind one party, the Civic United Front (CUF), which, if it wins next year's election, will press for devolution.
"There has always been resistance to the union because it was not based on popular consent. By the nature of being an island, we want to retain our own identity and run our own business," Mr Ismail Jussa, a senior CUF official, said last week.
Zanzibaris complain that the mainland government interferes where it is not wanted and has neglected the development of the island. Mainlanders, in turn, claim that the 800,000 Zanzi baris are over-represented in the national parliament.
But the differences are cultural as well as political. Zanzibar lies just 40 miles off the Tanzanian coast, but in many ways it could be thousands of miles out.
Having been ruled by powers ranging from the Sultan of Oman to the Queen of England, Zanzibaris consider themselves more Arab, Indian and even European than African.
The island has long held an allure of mystery for travellers and adventurers alike. Livingstone used it as a launch-pad for his great African explorations, but despised its thriving slave trade, which saw as many as 50,000 unfortunates pass through in chains every year.
Under colonialism the island thrived commercially, first as a trading post where coloured beads and guns were traded for ivory and gum, and later with the lucrative export of spices, particularly cloves. Zanzibar was the first sub-Saharan country to introduce colour television and at one point had $800 million in foreign exchange reserves.
But in recent years clove prices have collapsed and the economy has stagnated. Tourism, which is dominated by Italian interests, has not met expectations. Behind the veils and quaint facades, Zanzibaris are very unhappy.
Ali Abdulrahman has been working as a tailor in minuscule premises for 25 years. It is not so much a shop as a box that folds out on to the street, with just enough room for a chair and a sewing machine.
Earning just 3,000 shillings (about £3) per day, he is tired of the constant grind.
"Every morning I have to get up at three o'clock to fill the tanks with washing and cooking water because that is the only time we have a supply. We are really despairing, we can only stay in this poverty for so long," Mr Abdulrahman said.
He would be voting for CUF at the next elections because "this union is not good," he said. "We do not get our rights. We want to amend it so there are three states: Tanganyika, Zanzibar and the union."
Despite the plethora of ethnicities, Zanzibaris speak the same language, Swahili, and practise the same religion. An estimated 95 per cent are Muslim. There is no ethnic hierarchy, and religious tolerance is a matter of local pride.
In many ways it is the model Swahili statelet, an example to a continent rent apart by tribal and ethnic division. It should have been the cornerstone of Nyerere's integrationist, socialist vision. Instead, it was a constant thorn in his side.
Nyerere sold Zanzibaris the union, but they never bought into his politics. An essentially mercantile people, Nyerere's now-discredited socialist policies were anathema to them. In contrast with attitudes on the mainland, he is not fondly remembered.
"Forgive me speaking ill of the dead, but I can't mislead you that he was a glorious person. He was a ruthless character and we should not let him rule us from the grave," said Mr Dourado.
A Zanzibari of Indian descent who read for the bar at the Inner Temple in London, Mr Dourado has been an uncomfortable advocate of free speech under successive administrations. He found himself thrown into prison for over three months in 1985 after one particularly unfavourable set of pronouncements about "the teacher".
Most recently he hit the local headlines by denouncing the Zanzibari attorney general as a "bloodthirsty monster". Mr Dourado was referring to the state's refusal to pursue a trial against 18 CUF members who have been languishing in jail on charges of treason for over two years.
International donors have stalled development programmes for Zanzibar over the issue, and now the government promises that it will hold a fair trial by next February. A recent Commonwealth-brokered accord also led to pledges of electoral reforms before next year's elections.
Most of the Zanzibaris to whom this reporter spoke want change and see the CUF, under the leadership of Mr Seif Shariff Hamad, as the vehicle for that change.
But the incumbent, Mr Salmin Amour of the ruling Chama Cha Mapinduzi (CCM) party, who won the disputed 1995 election by a margin of just 0.2 per cent, is unlikely to go easily.
Whatever the outcome, a change in the relationship between Zanzibar and mainland Tanzania seems inevitable.
Nyerere once vowed that the union with Zanzibar would be destroyed "over my dead body". Those words may yet prove prophetic.