Cissé's Bambara epic stages a son's flight across a hostile landscape pursued by a father who embodies ossified tradition, mirroring Khair-Eddine's tension between Berber inheritance and the violence of patriarchal lineage. Both works treat wandering as an initiatory grammar where the dispossessed protagonist carries forbidden knowledge.

Weerasethakul splits his film into a realist village half and a folkloric jungle half, enacting the same fracture between modernity and oral substratum that animates Khair-Eddine's prose. The wandering soldier-protagonist dissolves into myth much as the Casablanca beggar dissolves into the city's collective unconscious.

Maldoror traces a woman's journey through colonial Luanda searching for her imprisoned husband, mapping the city as a carceral geography that swallows the marginal. Her camera, like Khair-Eddine's prose, treats the urban poor as repositories of an unspoken political knowledge that the colonial archive cannot register.

Rivette's twelve-hour serial follows a deaf-mute beggar and a paranoid drifter through a Paris emptied of revolutionary momentum, treating mendicancy as an epistemological position that decodes the city's hidden conspiracies. Khair-Eddine and Rivette share a conviction that the dispossessed possess a hermeneutic the bourgeoisie cannot access.

Potter's hospitalised writer hallucinates pulp fiction, wartime memory, and parental betrayal as a single delirious palimpsest, structurally mirroring Khair-Eddine's collage of beggar voices, colonial wounds, and Berber song. Both works insist that broken bodies are the only honest narrators of national history.

Sow Fall inverts the moral geometry of urban poverty by having beggars withdraw their bodies from the city, exposing how the destitute underwrite the spiritual economy of those who claim to despise them. Like Khair-Eddine, she reads the beggar as both economic remainder and theological mirror of postcolonial governance.

Salih's novel works the same modernist seam between Arabic-Islamic memory and European rupture that Khair-Eddine excavates, with both protagonists embodying a doubled consciousness that turns colonial education into a private hauntology. The Nile village and the Casablanca slum become parallel zones where postcolonial subjectivity dissolves into delirium.

Pedro Coquenão samples Luanda's street vendors, kuduro percussion, and colonial-era field recordings to construct an urban testimony that refuses both nostalgia and developmentalist gloss. Like Khair-Eddine's prose, the album hears the dispossessed not as victims but as the city's most acute archivists.

Urushibara's wandering Ginko traverses an unmapped premodern Japan as a witness to invisible ecologies the settled refuse to acknowledge, paralleling Khair-Eddine's beggar as a seer at the edge of an unseeing city. Both works treat the itinerant outsider as a translator of phenomena the official world has chosen to forget.

Kawasaki's subterranean city of Lux is a corroded labyrinth where prosthetic bodies and gang vendettas figure a society that has consumed its own lower classes, echoing Khair-Eddine's vision of Casablanca as an organism feeding on its margins. The protagonist's wordless ascent through the city's strata mirrors the beggar's vertical reading of urban hierarchy.