After that, Sayyid began stopping by regularly with questions.

Over
time, I realized that there are a number of people he’s recruited as
informal consultants. He’s illiterate, like more than a quarter of adult
Egyptians, so if he wants to read something that he pulls from the trash
he goes to the proprietor of H Freedom, a small corner kiosk. If he finds
himself involved in a neighborhood dispute, he calls on the man who
distributes government-subsidized bread. My own field of expertise
ranges from foreign things to sex products and alcohol. If somebody
throws away a half-finished bottle, Sayyid checks with me to see if it’s
imported and thus might have resale value. He’s Muslim, but not
particularly devout; when he stops by at night, he often asks for a beer.
He’s the only guest I’ve ever had who carries away his empties, because
he knows he’ll end up collecting them anyway.