December 2024: The very name Timbuktu evokes the glory days of exploration and adventure—a land of gold and unimaginable wealth hidden deep within the vast Sahara Desert. For centuries, it eluded European explorers, many of whom paid with their lives in their quest to locate it. While Timbuktu may be easier to visit today than in the past, it remains a challenging and perilous destination. It lies in a region plagued by conflict, marked by Tuareg rebellions and the looming threat of jihadists who have been known to kidnap and harm foreigners.
For adventure travelers, Timbuktu is the ultimate holy grail, and for me, it was no different. Despite having already visited Mali-Trekking into the Cliffside Villages of the Dogon in a Country Wracked by Conflict and Terrorism | Venture The Planet, the allure of Timbuktu drew me back. With a group of friends, I organized a journey to this legendary city, determined to finally step foot in its fabled sands and experience the mystique of this ancient, storied place.
Location of Timbuktu in Mali
About Timbuktu
Timbuktu: A City of Wealth and Knowledge
In the Middle Ages, Timbuktu was at the heart of the Mali Empire, a region rich in gold, salt, and ivory. Mansa Musa, the empire’s ruler in the 14th century, with wealth believed to be 400 billion dollars in today’s money, is considered one of the wealthiest people in history, thanks to Mali’s vast gold mines and Timbuktu’s position at the crossroads of major trade routes.
Mansa Musa’s Pilgrimage
In 1324, Mansa Musa embarked on a legendary pilgrimage to Mecca, traveling with 60,000 men and 100 camels laden with gold. His generosity of giving away gold caused its price to plummet in Cairo.
Timbuktu as a Hub of Trade and Learning
Timbuktu flourished as a key trade hub and a center for Islamic learning, with institutions like Sankore University. It became synonymous with prosperity and intellectual achievement.
European Exploration
For centuries, Timbuktu and its legendary wealth captivated European explorers. Reaching the city, however, was fraught with danger. Many attempted overland journeys from North Africa or coastal routes through the Gambia River in West Africa. Travelers faced the unforgiving, endless sands of the Sahara Desert, where lack of water and the intense sun posed lethal threats. Those who survived these natural challenges often fell victim to hostile tribes or Arab traders determined to protect their monopoly of trade routes connecting Europe to Africa.
Despite these obstacles, European explorers persistently sought to uncover Timbuktu’s secrets, failing time and again. It wasn’t until the early 19th century that a European finally reached the city. In 1826, Major Alexander Gordon Laing, a British explorer, became the first to set foot in Timbuktu, but he was killed shortly after arriving. Two years later, in 1828, René Caillié, a French explorer, achieved what many before him could not. He reached Timbuktu and returned safely, unveiling the mysteries of the fabled city to the world.
Timbuktu Today
Timbuktu is now a shadow of its former self, slowly fading into oblivion beneath the shifting sands of the Sahara. The city faces persistent instability from Tuareg rebellions and the jihadist al-Qaeda-linked group Jama’at Nasr al-Islam wal Muslimin (JNIM). Despite its illustrious history, Timbuktu has suffered immense hardship, including occupation and destruction by JNIM between 2012 and 2013. During their occupation, the group sought to obliterate the city’s Sufi mosques and ancient manuscripts, deeming them incompatible with its rigid and intolerant form of Salafist Islam.
Although JNIM was eventually ousted by French and Malian forces, the conflict persisted. JNIM remains entrenched in northern Mali, regularly launching suicide attacks, terrorizing civilians, kidnapping foreigners, and targeting the airport with RPGs. In 2023, the situation reached a breaking point when JNIM laid siege to Timbuktu, cutting it off from essential supplies like food and medicine.
Although the siege was eventually lifted, attacks on the city and its airport are still common. Flights remain infrequent, and the road from Bamako to Timbuktu is considered impassable and perilous for foreigners.
Today, travelers to Timbuktu are almost nonexistent, and the security situation has deteriorated significantly since I visited Mali a decade ago. Terrorist attacks and kidnappings, particularly targeting foreigners, have escalated across the country, including in Timbuktu. Western governments have issued strict no-travel advisories for Mali, and even local Malian travel agencies that once organized trips to Timbuktu now discourage visiting the city. An American traveler I corresponded with, who had started an organization building schools in Timbuktu, stopped traveling there entirely due to the dire security conditions.
During my visit, Timbuktu was accessible only by air due to the persistent threat of JNIM in the surrounding areas. However, some locals, including Aly Dicko—a fixer from Timbuktu I consulted about organizing a trip—believed that the security situation within the city itself was showing faint signs of improvement. This offered a glimmer of hope that normalcy might be slowly returning. Even Sky Mali, the national airline, had recently resumed flights to Timbuktu, suggesting the first tentative steps toward recovery. This was enough encouragement for me, and I decided to start organizing a 2024 trip with my friends.
Post-Coup Mali & Terror Attack in Bamako
To complicate matters further, Mali’s pro-Western government was overthrown in a coup a few years ago, replaced by an anti-Western, pro-Russian military dictatorship. This new regime expelled United Nations and French troops, choosing instead to rely on the Russian Wagner mercenary group—labeled as a terrorist organization by the West. This decision has left the security situation in Timbuktu—and the country as a whole—highly precarious.
Before my visit, I had heard from fellow travelers about frequent detentions and interrogations by government police, who have grown increasingly suspicious of foreigners, sometimes accusing them of espionage. At the start of 2024, obtaining visas for Westerners became almost impossible. However, I discovered that the Mali consulate in New York was still issuing visas with a letter of invitation from within Mali. Armed with this information, my friends and I managed to secure our visas in just one week, despite the significant challenges.
Right when my friends and I started to feel good about our upcoming trip to Mali and Timbuktu only a few months before our departure, JNIM terrorists launched an early morning attack in the capital on a school of special forces soldiers and of an airforce base at the airport. Over a hundred government soldiers were killed and even the presidential jet was destroyed. Additionally, Malian and Wagner soldiers were ambushed and slaughtered in the north of the country. The security situation in Mali started to look bleak and an attack in Timbuktu seemed like a risky endeavor.
Murals of Colonel Assimi Goïta and other members of the Military Junta Currently in Charge
Map depicting how widespread terror attacks are in Mali
Getting to Timbuktu
I began planning my trip to Timbuktu during the summer, aware that for years the only way foreigners could visit was by privately chartering a small plane. This option was both costly and restrictive, allowing only a short half-day visit. Local authorities limited foreigners’ time in Timbuktu due to security concerns, requiring the accompaniment of soldier escorts, which added to the expense. While I was willing to accept the brief visit, the high cost of the charter plane for such a short stay was unappealing.
In conversations with local Malian fixers, I learned about a rare exception. Once a year, during a Tuareg music festival held in mid-December, the government permits an extended stay in Timbuktu. This is due to the heightened security presence of government and Wagner soldiers during the festival. This was exactly the opportunity I wanted—not only could I spend two nights in Timbuktu, but I could also attend the festival and experience the incredible desert blues music I had admired for years. Artists like Tinariwen, a group from the region that achieved international fame and collaborated with musicians such as Herbie Hancock, had long inspired my interest in the area’s music.
Initially, details were scarce. I was told we would still need to charter a plane, and the cost would decrease with more passengers, up to a maximum of nine. Determined to make the trip affordable, I began organizing a group, and it was surprisingly easy to fill all nine spots. However, after securing commitments from everyone, I learned that we would not be chartering a private plane after all. Instead, we would be flying to Timbuktu on a military or United Nations plane arranged by the government. Then right when I thought everything was going great, the tripalmost came to a crashing end.
Terrorist Attack Only Months Before Our Trip
Just months before our visit, a large group of Fulani jihadists carried out a nighttime attack on a Malian special forces school and an air force base in Bamako, killing at least 100 soldiers. This was a significant strike in the capital, far from the jihadists’ usual stronghold. Knowing that Timbuktu lay firmly within their territory, I couldn’t shake the thought: if they could stage such a brazen attack in Bamako, they could easily do the same—or worse—in Timbuktu, where their presence is much stronger.
The attack raised serious doubts about whether the festival would go ahead, if tourist visas would still be issued, or if visits to Timbuktu would be allowed at all. Reports of planes being destroyed at the airport, including the presidential aircraft, further heightened my concerns about the reliability of the plane designated for our trip. Our guide confirmed that the trip was uncertain at that point and said we would know within a few weeks whether it was still on.
Fortunately, the trip wasn’t canceled, but the ongoing security risks in Mali, especially in Timbuktu, made everyone in our group uneasy. One person even dropped out entirely, and others were left apprehensive. As a new father, I also felt a stronger sense of caution and was determined to minimize risks. To make the trip safer, I asked the guide to contact the pilot of the festival plane to see if we could avoid spending two nights in Timbuktu by paying extra for the plane to wait while we completed a same-day visit. After a few weeks of back-and-forth, my request was approved. For a modest fee of a few thousand dollars—manageable when divided among the group—we arranged for the day trip.
While this adjustment made the trip feel significantly safer, it came with a downside: it would limit our ability to fully experience the music festival, which had been one of the main draws of the journey. Still, the chance to see Timbuktu at all felt like an opportunity worth pursuing.
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Finally Stepping Foot in Timbuktu
As the date of our trip approached, I learned that the government-arranged flight to Timbuktu would not be a military plane as initially expected but rather a chartered Boeing 737 operated by the national domestic airline, Sky Mali. The one-hour flight was set to carry our group alongside musicians, festival attendees from Bamako, and high-ranking military generals and junta ministers, who naturally occupied the first-class cabin.
We arrived in Bamako the day before departure and stayed at a modest guesthouse in one of the city’s more tourist-friendly areas, surrounded by a few charming restaurants and cafes. It was a welcome reprieve to relax and prepare for the long-anticipated journey ahead.
Early the next morning, we boarded the aging and decrepit Boeing 737, which would likely be deemed unairworthy by modern international standards. The plane’s worn condition was evident, and my friend, an experienced airline pilot, even noticed a loose cap on the wing that could potentially detach mid-flight and cause significant damage to the rudder. This discovery did little to ease our nerves.
As we took off, Bamako quickly faded from view, and beneath us lay an unbroken expanse of haze and sand. It was the dry season, and during this time of year, winds whip up Sahara sands, blanketing the landscape and sky in a dense, suffocating layer.
As we began our descent, the Niger River came into view, sprawling massively across the landscape. Despite being far north into Mali, the river’s floodbanks were wide and swollen from record-breaking rains during the past rainy season. However, the city of Timbuktu now sat miles away from the river, as its course had shifted over centuries. Beyond the runway, an endless sea of sand stretched in all directions, marking the vast desert surrounding the city.
Upon landing, we were greeted by a full military reception. Soldiers and Timbuktu’s local ministers stood at attention, awaiting the officials onboard, while a military band played an energetic medley of horns and drums. The generals and ministers were the first to disembark, stepping onto a red carpet laid out in their honor. The rest of us were the last to leave the plane, instructed not to take any photos of the airport or its military presence. Unfortunately, I had to rely on images from Sky Mali’s Facebook page to capture the moment.
Malian generals and ministers that flew with me from Bamako being greeted with military red carpet treatment in Timbuktu
Malian generals and ministers that flew with me from Bamako being greeted with military red carpet treatment in Timbuktu
Stepping Foot in Timbuktu
When we landed and disembarked from the plane, the scene was pure chaos. Aside from our group, there was only one other group of foreigners, consisting of about five people. The rest of the passengers were a mix of festival spectators and military personnel. Each group was quickly sorted into separate vehicles to be escorted into town by the military. Since our group was scheduled to stay in Timbuktu for only half a day, we were separated from the others. I was astonished to learn that our modest contribution to the airline—a few thousand dollars—was enough to delay the return flight for an entire plane full of passengers, allowing us to fly back to Bamako later that day.
Leaving the airport, we zigzagged through a maze of checkpoints, fortified bunkers, and gun posts surrounded by barbed wire. The area bore the marks of its turbulent history—frequent mortar fire, RPG attacks, drone strikes, and suicide bombings had plagued the airport in the past. The defenses were robust, and I searched for signs of Wagner mercenaries, knowing they were present. However, they were well-concealed, likely under strict orders to remain out of sight while foreigners were around.
The road into town was a dusty track flanked by occasional mudbrick houses. To my surprise, our military escort peeled off in another direction, leaving us to navigate the route alone. This made me uneasy—Timbuktu felt porous, surrounded by vast desert expanses. It seemed alarmingly easy for enemy combatants to infiltrate the town or stage an ambush. However, there was no visible security presence along the road.
Yet, despite the underlying risks, the town itself exuded a peaceful, almost serene atmosphere. It felt far removed from the chaos and danger that its reputation suggested. The streets were calm and quiet, and the residents were remarkably friendly. Children would stop to wave, pose for photos, and greet us with smiles. There was even a modest presence of tourist touts, a remnant of Timbuktu’s pre-conflict days as a destination for adventurous travelers. These vendors eagerly offered us handicrafts and souvenirs.
I couldn’t help but feel sorry for them—these were people whose livelihoods had been decimated by the collapse of tourism. To support them, I purchased a small handcrafted item and a t-shirt that read “I’ve Been to Timbuktu,” complete with a tongue-in-cheek Wagner insignia on it. The purchase felt bittersweet, a mix of gratitude for their resilience and sadness for the challenges they faced in a place that once thrived on the dreams of travelers from around the world.
Quiet streets of Timbuktu
Streets full of Sahara Desert Sand
People in Timbuktu mostly get around via a combination of motor bike, camel or donkey cart
Local kids excited to see foreigners
Street Scene
Man tending his goats
Market
Madrassa School
Center of Islamic Studies
The home where one of the first European explorers Gordon stayed while he was in Timbuktu. He never returned home alive as he was murdered soon after he left the city.
Mud Mosques of Timbuktu
The mud mosques of Timbuktu are among the most iconic and historically significant landmarks in West Africa. They embody the city’s rich Islamic heritage and its pivotal role as a major center of learning and trade during the medieval period. Tragically, during the occupation of Timbuktu by Al-Qaeda, many Sufi shrines were destroyed, and the mosques were damaged. Al-Qaeda deemed Sufism—a denomination of Islam that venerates saints, akin to Catholic traditions—heretical.
Timbuktu is home to several notable mosques, and we visited two of the most important ones. The first was the Djinguereber Mosque, the oldest in Timbuktu, commissioned by King Mansa Musa in the early 1300s. To enter, we located the caretaker, an elderly Tuareg man dressed in flowing blue robes, who unlocked the massive wooden doors for us. Inside, we removed our shoes and walked through a maze of shaded corridors beneath ancient wooden beams.
One of my friends, who is Muslim, excused himself to pray in the mosque’s sacred inner chambers. Although I am not Muslim, I felt a profound reverence for the mosque’s historical and spiritual significance. I also felt immense gratitude to God for enabling all of us to reach Timbuktu despite the many challenges we faced along the way.
We explored the mosque’s outdoor courtyard and climbed a set of steps to the roof. However, one of the caretakers admonished us not to venture far. I suspect this was either because snipers were stationed throughout the city, watching for potential threats to the festival attendees, or because the rooftop itself was fragile.
Our second stop was the Sankore Mosque, where we took turns photographing ourselves in front of its impressive mud-brick towers, adorned with protruding wooden pegs. The mosque was part of the renowned Sankore Islamic University, an institution established during Mansa Musa’s reign. His vision was to make Timbuktu a global center for higher learning, encompassing not only Islamic studies but also mathematics, science, astronomy, and other disciplines.
At its peak, Timbuktu was home to hundreds of thousands of manuscripts, meticulously crafted by some of the world’s most educated scholars. These manuscripts were preserved within the mosques and the homes of families living in the city, making Timbuktu a treasure trove of knowledge and culture.
Djinguereber Mosque
Djinguereber Mosque
Djinguereber Mosque
Djinguereber Mosque
Sankore Mosque built in 1300s
Me in front of the Sankore Mosque built in 1300s
Sankore Mosque built in 1300s
Ancient Manuscripts of Timbuktu
As mentioned earlier, King Mansa Musa established Timbuktu as a center of higher learning, attracting scholars from across the Islamic world. These scholars produced an extraordinary collection of manuscripts that documented the history of the region and celebrated the achievements of its people in fields beyond Islam, including science, mathematics, astronomy, and literature.
Tragically, during the occupation of Timbuktu by Al-Qaeda, thousands of these manuscripts were burned, as many contained Sufi content deemed heretical by the extremists. However, thanks to the courageous actions of a local man, many manuscripts survived. He smuggled numerous texts out of the city and hid others within the homes of local families.
Today, these precious manuscripts are preserved in a few small museums, where we had the privilege of observing some of them. Efforts are underway to digitize the manuscripts, ensuring that their wisdom and legacy are never lost to history. Each one is being carefully scanned and uploaded, a testament to the resilience and determination of the people of Timbuktu to safeguard their cultural heritage.
A Caretaker of the manuscripts showing displaying one of them to us with Koranic writing
Before leaving Timbuktu, we enjoyed a traditional meal of raisin and rice stuffing cooked inside the roasted belly of a sheep. While I’m not a fan of sheep meat, my favorite parts of the meal were the watermelon and the cold orange Fanta substitute soda.
As we finished our meal, we received a call from the pilot informing us that the plane was ready for departure, and we needed to return to the airport to head back to Bamako. We quickly hopped into our van and, without a military escort—likely because the military deemed the city secure during the festival—we made our way to the airport. The dusty dirt road was dotted with multiple checkpoints and zigzagged through manned bunkers, a stark reminder of the region’s challenges.
At the airport terminal, we joined the other passengers, mostly Tuareg people dressed in their traditional turbans and robes. In the center of the terminal was a dirt pit, where travelers could wash their feet and hands before conducting their prayers. After a short wait, we boarded the plane. Since it wasn’t as full as when we arrived, we were able to scatter into more desirable seats.
One of our friends decided to stay in Timbuktu for two more nights until the next flight returned, convinced that the city was secure. He turned out to be right, and I would have made the same choice had I not already changed my flight to return a day early.
The festival went on to be a success, with local performers sharing their music, and thankfully, there were no security incidents.
Wes and I are wearing our Tuareg turbans and eating watermelon in Timbuktu
Hiking in Sibi and Visiting the Dogon Tribe
On our last full day in Bamako, we split into two ancient Toyota Land Cruisers and drove two hours to the town of Sibi, a small village nestled in the mountains outside Bamako, considered a secure and safe area. Our guides warned us to avoid taking photos at city intersections, as doing so would likely result in being detained by the police for questioning.
Once in Sibi, we ventured down a dirt road and met a local guide who led us on a hike into the mountains. The trail took us to a massive rock arch and a network of caves historically used by the Dogon people for animistic rituals and animal sacrifices.
Sibi is the ancestral homeland of the Dogon, an animistic tribe that fled the region over a thousand years ago to escape the armies imposing Islam. They resettled on the Bandiagara Plateau in northern Mali, near the Burkina Faso border—a place I had the opportunity to trek during a previous visit to Mali. Unfortunately, the Dogon now face new challenges. Many are leaving the Bandiagara region due to violent conflicts with Fulani tribesmen over land and religious tensions. As a result, some Dogon are returning to their ancestral home in Sibi, seeking refuge from the ongoing turmoil.
After our hike, we were treated to a fascinating display of Dogon culture. They showcased their sacred wooden masks—some of the most intricate and beautiful masks I’ve encountered in my travels. Passed down through generations, these masks hold deep spiritual significance. The Dogon also performed a traditional dance for us. While it was evident that the performance was staged for visitors, it was still meaningful to witness the Dogon preserving their traditions in a world where so many cultural practices are disappearing.
Highlands of Sibi
The Arch we hiked to in Sibi
Me sitting under the arch
Dogon Dance
Dogon Dance
Dogon Dance
Dogon Dance
Dogon Dance
A few of us departed that night on a return flight home from Bamako. As we drove to the airport under the cover of darkness, we were warned that we might encounter militia checkpoints in the city, where our baggage could be searched. While the thought was unsettling, we were fortunate that no such incidents occurred, and we had an uneventful departure from the airport.