From his gheya—a spindly wooden tower resembling a medieval siege engine—Kouka surveys a patchwork of similar structures rising above east Cairo. Across Egypt, there are thousands more, many extending buildings by 10 or 15 metres.
In Kouka’s neighbourhood, animals are usually kept for their milk or meat, but none are treated with the same reverence as his pigeons. Their loft is meticulously arranged: each bird has its own booth in what looks like an oversized chest of drawers. Kouka feeds, cleans, and medicates them on a strict schedule, training them with patience and precision.
The process begins with separation: young pigeons are taught to live apart from their parents, then they learn the layout of the loft, and finally they join the older birds in flight—soaring for hours across the rooftops in the early evening. Kouka teaches them to respond to his whistles and signals, following his “king pigeon,” the leader of the flock.
His goal is to keep the birds fit and disciplined for local competitions known as a nash. In one version, rival breeders release some of their pigeons from each other’s lofts, then attempt to lure away members of the opposing flock. The winner is the breeder whose pigeons return with the most “captives”—sometimes earning prize money, but more importantly, prestige.
For Kouka, it’s never about the money. He comes from a family of bird-keepers and grew up with pigeons as his closest companions. For him, the sport is about pride, legacy, and the deep bond between a breeder and his birds.
