Contributed by Mosa’ab Elshamy

A few months ago, I had the privilege of spending several days with a group of Bedouins in Egypt’s deserted yet lovely Valley of Camels, deep in the deserts of the Red Sea — the province of the Red Sea, not the actual sea, I know how odd this sounds. It is hundreds of miles away from the boisterous Cairo.

This Valley of Camels, as the name suggests, is pretty populated with camels, but also features other forms of wildlife.

It is the ancient home of Egypt’s Beja tribes, who happen to be, like all Bedouins, a very loving and welcoming bunch. I thoroughly enjoyed my stay with them and was quite humbled to get a peek into their daily lives.

Living with them during that period, I was drawn into a whole new set of culture and traditions that was unknown, to say the least, to me. I am fairly representative of the large bunch of city-living, traffic-loathing, air-condition-depending population of Egypt, I’d say.

It would take months to cover all aspects of their lives from the experience I had, but I thought I might start with one small, but fascinating and beautiful, part of their lives: their attachment to sports. This series of photographs captures sports in their lives. I call the series, the Bedouin Olympics.

Sword fighting round. It's life a Fight Club. Don't let the smiles fool you, those are real swords. But unlike Fight Club, both can (and always do) make it out alive.

Not only are those kids skilled with the inner and outer matters of footie, they also get to do Godly acts like been friends after a game and posing with a stabilized ball.

Bedouin kids Champions League. It's a battle of epic proportions. The desert is your field. Nike would say, Just Do It.

Bedouins defy gravity, and laugh their butts off while doing so.

Long, high or projectile jump, it all started in the desert.

Tug of war.

Celebrating the Olympics with a cold, mineral glass of water sounds like the most fitting thing to do in a desert

And here is where the day ends. Camels racing

If you haven't got a camel yet, well, you've still got legs.

Not all of the crowd are into the sport fiasco though, some chill under a tree..

...and others pray

Have a good day!!

Follow Mosa’ab Elshamy on Twitter: @mosaaberizing

Lucky enough not to fall on (botched) International Burn a Quran Day, this year’s Eid al-Adha for some was observed on November 16th and other ardent moon-sighting observers November 17th, marking the end of Hajj and commemorating the willing sacrifice of Prophet Abraham. In addition to the staple Boston Globe photojournalist essay, here is a round-up of some auditory-tantalizing Hajj Stories:

1. Two South Africans Cycle to Hajj in Al Jazeera, Arab News, “Capetown to Mecca” by Cyclelicious.
2. Over 13,500 Chinese for this Haj

3. No room for terrorism in Islam: Haj sermon by Grand Mufti Sheikh Abdul Aziz Al Sheikh of Saudi Arabia

Merry Eid y’all!

*The picture selected from the BG photoshoot was done so because it closely resembled my favorite photo from BG’s Eid ul-Fitr series, which is below:

Now, I’m sure you might argue that graffiti isn’t awesome, but I totally disagree…I love it all. And done right, it’s an art form.

Oh, and the art’s not bad either:

I took this in 2002, at Al-Ram checkpoint on the West Bank. All the checkpoints had been closed by Israeli troops and these women were demonstrating to have them opened, so that food and medical supplies could come through. An hour before, a group of men had been demonstrating, but the soldiers pulled out their batons so the women – who were both Palestinian and Israeli – moved to the front.

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Hirokawa, age 60, is a photojournalist with nearly four decades of experience.

As the taxi made it short way down one of Ramallah’s main roads, Irsal Street, I was shocked to see the dictator’s smug mug pasted over the giant billboards too. I couldn’t quite understand it-no doubt the companies that had paid thousands for these advertising spaces would be livid, but the big companies here are pretty cushy with Abbasshole and his clique (after all, it is their millions that grease the rusted wheels of this fucked up Authority).

When I got to work, it became apparent that whoever had carried this out had some top-class backing. Firstly, the poster used is Abbasshole’s official Presidential photograph, the one he hangs up in his own office. Only his people have the rights to that picture. Secondly, the bastards who precipitated the uglyfication of our town must have had a lot of hands: the posters weren’t just littering Irsal Street, but also other parts of Ramallah and Albireh including Nablus Street and even, as called in by our very own indignant Um Mazen, on the massive Movenpick hotel in the heart of Ramallah.

I don’t understand the purpose of this stunt. Kabobfest called up the dictator’s office who readily admitted this was all their idea. They didn’t give a reason why though; they just enjoy fucking around with us, apparently unaware that we despise their prick of a boss. Maybe he wanted to remind the Israeli army patrols just who is in charge.

Covering towns with the face of the ‘president’ has long been a forte of Arab dictators, and it wouldn’t be the first time Abbasshole has hired cheap thugs to spread his special brand of assholeness.

Seriously, as I went through the town during the day, the scale of the vandalism really hit me. There were literally tens of thousands of the posters, not hundreds as I thought at first, and I’ve taken a few sample shots here, including some pasted over business signs and even the light-posts on the façade at work. As soon as I finished making sure the inside of my home was Abbasshole-free, I put these up.

Offer your caption in the comments section.

I admit, it is not impossible for a homeless man to have a camera phone, especially in this economy. Or it could be a prepaid phone.

In picture two, you find a sharply dressed man getting food at the homeless kitchen. I would say at least 200 dollars is what he paid for the suit. If this is an old suite, I want to get his dry cleaners address!

Whatever happened to the homeless man we got used to? Were they booted out by the press handlers?

More likely, the camera phone holder and suited gentleman are part of the newly foreclosed, laid off class of folks being hit in every city.

As I write this, I know I sound naive asking such questions about the homeless (Urban Outdoorsmen as a friend calls them). You cannot blame me. As my mother used to quote Arabic proverb for me she would say, “When the poor man takes a rather big dump, people cannot help but ask, ‘How is that possible?’”

Does he look like he’s fazed?

[Tarboush Tip: Nadeem]

Paid for by Dr. Jamal Khalil of Seattle.