Muhammad, Masood, and I take a bus to Kitkat, Imbaba, from where we take a taxi into Ataba, over 6 October Bridge past 26 July Street, through Ezbekiya to the bottom of al-Muski. Muhammad turns orange, his voice croaks, expectorating through the car window greenly. I ask what’s wrong and he dramatically lowers his head and points with both hands, Traffic Headache. We set off on foot for the Muski proper and immediately they dicker over woolen scarves. My treat. We turn back into Midan al-Azhar to take the busy city view, they enter Sayyidna Hussein and Masood comes out smiling, amazed. Muhammad says his headache has cleared and is suddenly eager to return to the camel market, but first to buy a rosary and enter Al-Azhar, Masood handles a Quran and asks the price, he leaves it and they take off their shoes, I notice his yellow socks when they return. We jump into a taxi, I get the price down to 3 pounds 25 piasters, pay then jump out. I salute my friends, a final salute, shake hands again through the open window, and watch the two of them crawl down Sharia al-Azhar in traffic back eventually to Dar al-Kabābīsh.
-Diary, March 12, 1984, Cairo
That was my last glimpse of Muhammad and Masood. I’ve stayed in touch with KhairAllah over the years, in fact I just heard from him- indirectly, through his son- last week, and I often ask him if he has seen our mates from my first trip with him, and he says no. But he laughs at the mention of Masood, Abu Dūd, Father of the Lion, for he always made us laugh back in those days too.