The Shaikh was always simply clothed: a small calico cap, short turban, white shirt and pants covered with a light blue robe, and yellow slippers.... In his hand he carried a small metal pot and, on important occasions, one of his two canes.... He was strikingly handsome. His eyes were clear; his skin bronzed, his features symmetrical. His beard was black, long, soft and divided at the chin. He wore no mustache.

He seemed never to be more than thirty years old. No one ever saw him blow his nose, spit, sweat or complain of being warm or cold. He could go indefinitely without eating or drinking. He never seemed to tire of riding, walking, or remaining seated on a mat.

His voice was gentle, but it had extraordinary carrying quality. He never laughed nor cried, he never got angry. His face was always calm and smiling....