Throwing pigeons off a roof... NOT clickbait!

Last week, I went to my language partner’s university with her again, but this time, I brought Mira and Jeremy, and we met a bunch of kids in her robotics club. Then we went to somebody’s birthday party in the art club, where we met some really nice students who were super patient with our Darija. They showed us Moroccan dances, and we showed them the Cotton-Eyed Joe in return. They mastered that quickly, while I learned that I lack all coordination when it comes to music. Actually, I knew that before, but every now and then I think, “maybe I’ll be better this time” and am always chwiya disappointed.

ANYWAYS, Mohammed from her robotics club invited us to his house the next day to eat couscous with his family, and since the language barrier is SUCH a big one, we always say yes to any invitations. We are so freaking desperate. He met us at a tram station the next day and we all took a grand taxi to a nearby city together, and then while we were waiting for lunch to be made, he showed us his bedroom. He is a PhD in robotics, so he had drawers full of circuit boards and batteries and such. He showed us a few theses that he was reading, and there were English song lyrics taped on his wall.

He picked up a feather and kept saying “hamam,” which means bathroom/Moroccan spa, so we had absolutely no idea what he was talking about. He gave up trying to explain and said that he would just show us, so we climbed multiple staircases up to his roof and that’s when it all clicked.

The first thing I learned when studying Arabic was that Hamam and Hammam sound super similar, but the first means “pigeons” and the second means “bathroom/Moroccan spa.” Mohammed had dozens of pigeons in a cage on his roof.

He opened the cage and pulled them out with ease, and then he told us that the pigeons sometimes fly to Casablanca and return back home a few days later. I thought he was lying. I absolutely did not believe it. So he threw one of the pigeons off the roof of the multi-story building as though it was a ball, and it flew into the sky. I was absolutely shocked. Then he handed one to Mira and she threw that bird into the sky, too. Before I knew it, half the pigeons were circling the building, flying around and having fun. Some returned while we stood there discussing them, and some would return later. Apparently, pigeons always ALWAYS return home. I asked how he knew that one of his pigeons went to Casa, and he pointed out its huge breast muscles.

Then we went inside, and while eating couscous, watched a film on pigeons in WW2 that were used when the telephones and radios stopped working. Apparently, one pigeon flew 20 miles in 20 minutes to deliver a message -- just in time -- telling Americans not to bomb one area because there were still Brits there. Fascinating. Of course, these pigeons only worked until the Germans got wise and started sending Peregrine Falcons into the sky, which killed the pigeons mid-flight.

I told one of my other friends later, and he told me that one pigeon was awarded the Victoria Cross and somebody tried pinning it to the pigeon and ended up killing it. Dummy.