On the banks of river Nile, an old fisherman rests upon his rickety boat under the hot Khartoum sun. His gaze is strict, his chiseled features strong and commanding. Yet, as he slowly moves his scarred right arm to bring a cup of tea to his lips, his withered face softens into a gentle smile.
“He seemed very strong, but welcoming,” says Qusai Akoud as he recalls the moment he approached the Khartoum fisherman to ask for a photograph and a quick chat. “He and his friends, they come fish here every morning and sell their fish in the fish market.”
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