Strewn with horns littering the floor with other rubbish. Old car tyres stripped of their soft rubber to make shoes, tin cans, papaya peelings, black paper bags rustling in breeze from the sea and fifty maribu storks and three vultures pick among the old bones and bits of spine.
Over there, a solitary cow stands in a wooden pen looking out past the stork heads and over towards the island where water laps overhanging mangroves.
“Come tonight” says Ziwa. “We’ll take a dhow and watch the elephants swim back over to the mainland”
kilififish 