The men and boys, I soon discover, are at market tending to serious business. After 10 minutes skirting sundry snags through spiraling threads of earthen streets, we park at the western edge of the village. As I push my way to the front of the bus, the scene before me stings every spot on my imagination. Stands of textiles, poultry, fruit and vegetables canvass a dung-covered lot the size of the Great Lawn in Central Park. The grunt and squeal of animals intermingles with earnest intonations as traders hustle for a sell.
People collide with each other, and with the livestock, and everywhere there is movement.
This particular souk is the livestock market, held every Tuesday morning in tandem with the more famous camel market, the largest such assembly between the Sudan and Cairo. In the summertime, the two markets are often held side by side. In winter, as now, the markets are on opposite ends of town. They've attracted an increasing number of tourists in recent years and yet they manage to elude the sort of posturing common in places frequented by Westerners. Weaving through the chaos, I find myself back in the Egypt of seven centuries ago.