The wise ones schedule a few days in Stone Town beforehand. After strong coffee and pungent melon, we wander off to the market to haggle over ebony chess sets, combs and salad tongs. At the endless textile booths we finger vibrant bolts of cloth. We keep walking, duck into a cool alley to avoid the zipping bicycles and slithering children packing the main streets. The shaded passage leads to a courtyard surrounded by high white walls.
Roosters scratch around.
A man is stretched beneath a shrub, snoring. At night we sample curries in one of Stone Town's bayside restaurants. Shortly after sunset, we'll hear it. We won't be expecting it, because by day we forget. That strange wail startles us for a moment every night.