Khizr haunted me during my fieldwork. The legend is that he is a lost Prophet – rather a Prophet for lost souls, lost travelers, seekers. He appears when you least expect and guides you. He is immortal. He is dressed in green. When I was walking around lower Sindh, I would encounter his memory everywhere – tombs of those whose lives intersected with him, footprints of Alexander as he raced to catch him in the mist. I was looking for manuscripts and, as one wag put it, only Khizr himself could satisfy my needs.
I feel like I met Khizr in Cairo. He did have a green jersey. He was our guide. He did seem to possess the wisdom of the ages. He made Cairo come alive for me, made me see spaces I would have otherwise glossed over. It was wonderful to have shared his Cairo. Thanks, man.
These photos are of faces I saw, mostly from afar.
Next up, FOOD!