FLY AWAY HOME
Pigeon-Keepers in Lebanon
At sunrise and sunset, pigeons fill the sky across Lebanon. Most pigeon-keepers are men, but the practice becomes a communal affair, as most birds are housed on the roofs of family homes and flown daily in dense urban neighborhoods. “When I come home to my birds the heaviness of the day melts away,” says French-Lebanese pigeon breeder Imad Alameh.
Palestinian brothers Mohammed and Ibrahim spend every evening on the roof of their apartment building in Burj el-Barajneh refugee camp, drinking tea, talking, smoking, and watching their birds, as friends come and go. Filled with potted plants, chairs and tea glasses tucked into odd corners, their roof is an oasis of calm from the hustle and bustle of their 7-day work week.
Mahmoud used to be a shoe seller in the Tripoli souk, but now he has a pigeon shop and sells pigeons that he breeds on his rooftop. He says that pigeon-keeping earns him a better salary than shoe-selling, as he can make $50 per sale and his upfront costs are only the food and medicine it takes to raise his birds. In this way Mahmoud supports his family.
With whistles, claps and the warble of a caught female dove, along with visual cues like swinging ropes, pigeon keepers fly their birds from their rooftops and then coax them to return home. This flight is a daily ritual and a moment where, eyes on the sky, the problems below can momentarily disappear. The roof becomes a sacred space where pigeon-keeping’s labor of love transcends the constrictions of crowded urban settlements, refugee lived realities, the summer heat, and the daily struggle of life within Lebanon’s ongoing economic crisis.
Watching the men who keep pigeons is to witness tenderness. In the life lines of their tanned and wrinkled hands is a story of passion, tradition and longing for a former home or a way of life that used to be. Eyes on their birds, Lebanon’s pigeon-keepers wonder if one day, they may fly away too.
Pigeons on Suhal’s rooftop in Burj el-Barajneh, a Palestinian and Syrian refugee camp on the periphery of Beirut. Suhal is 50 years old and a second-generation Palestinian refugee who has kept pigeons since a young age. Pigeon-keeping is especially common among Syrian and Palestinian refugees in Lebanon.
Pigeon-Keeper Mahmoud chats on whatsapp with a friend while feeding his pigeons.
The view from Mahmoud’s pigeon rooftop in Tripoli, Lebanon.
Ahmed Hussein (54) a Palestinian resident of Burj el Barajneh refugee camp, holds a young finch. Ahmed used to keep pigeons, but says "after the war" he had to give them all away. After asking his wife Jumana about her husband's love of birds, she said Ahmed did not give up his pigeons during the war, but after they got married, at her request! And that she allows the finches as a compromise because they are small & affordable.
A pigeon egg, freshly laid.
(left) Ashou 38, a Syrian resident of Shatila refugee camp, has a tattoo of a fox and a pigeon, his two favorite animals, on his right shoulder. Ashou has been keeping pigeons for 5 years, but has loved the birds for far longer, learning the craft and spending time on friend’s rooftops daily, before being able to afford a space to keep his own.
(right) A pigeon rooftop in Burj el Barajneh
Mohammed Sawan (35, left) and Ibrahim Habet (29, right), on their rooftop in Burj el-Barajneh refugee camp. The men are brothers and Palestinian refugees living in Lebanon. Here, they visit with their friend Mohamad (center) while they let their pigeons out for food, water and exercise.
A corner of Imad Alameh's office, where he displays various art, gifts and trophies from his years as an honorary judge for pigeon events in Europe and Jordan. Imad is a French-Lebanese pigeon-breeder and translator who has written many articles in German, French and Arabic about Levantine pigeon breeds.
Sisters Nisreen and Nirmeen watch their neighbors’ pigeons fly at sunset. There, far above the gaze of nosy neighbors, they savor the sunset and call out to the pigeons that their neighbors fly at the close of each day. “Sitting here is like meditation,” said Nisreen. “You don’t even need to do breathing exercises or yoga. You just watch the birds and it’s like…(exhales) all the stress is gone, and you relax.”
A dove (doves and pigeons are in the same bird family, and some argue, the same bird) mural in Martyr's Square, Beirut. Pigeons have been considered a symbol of hope throughout all of recorded history. In the Sumerian Epic of Gilgamesh, an ancient Mesopotamian poem predating the bible, Gilgamesh releases a pigeon after a great flood, that then flew back to him, indicating the devastation had finished.