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Nawal—a native of the Comoros Islands in the Indian Ocean—infuses her latest album, Aman, with a rich mixture of Indo-African rhythms and Middle-Eastern tonalities. The result is relaxing, hypnotic, meditative, while challenging the spirit to find truth through simplicity and respect.

She opens the album with Salama (Peace), sung with a throaty cry like a call to prayer. Inspired by the 9/11 tragedy, the song is a universal plea to end bloodshed, reflecting her vision of Islam as a religion “founded upon love, respect and peace.”Though respecting its general mission of peace and truth, the album doesn’t get stuck thematically and rarely comes off pedantic. Cuts include Ode à Maarouf, a song for her great grandfather, the Sufi marabout Mohammed Ben Ahmed Al-Maarouf; Leo ni Leo (Winds of Hope), a wish that the presidential promises following a peaceful transition will be fulfilled; and Dandzi (A Woman’s Blues), a traditional Comoran lament about unrequited love in a polygamous marriage. Nawal sings in Comoran, Arabic, French and English, but liner notes providing limited translations by Moncef Saïd Ibrahim help guide the way.

Nawal has been performing professionally for 20 years, and plays several instruments including guitar and gambusi, a Comoran instrument similar to a banjo. Nawal produced the album and wrote all of the songs, except for the traditional tunes and snatches of inspirational excerpts she weaves into her message. Meditation, with a stirring, circular rhythm, includes a quote (in French) by Marianne Williamson: “Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure.” 

As the first Comoran singer-songwriter to perform in public, Nawal has had to buck many of the socio-religious mores of her culture. But she pulls no punches. Songs like Hima (Get Up) reflect her strong, though peaceful, stance: “Hey modern woman; get up, get up; free yourself from the shadow and fight for your rights. No one is going to fight in your place.”

The title track, Aman (Peace of the Soul), closes the album in a spiritual circle, with richly oriental vocals that penetrate deep down like the best of flamenco’s cante jondo, laced with mystic harmonies: “Today I pray for peace, that it will fill our souls, and liberate humanity.” As Elvis Costello said, what’s so funny about peace, love and understanding?