It was April 4, 2021. French journalist Olivier Dubois had just landed in Gao, an arid town in northern Mali that was taken over by jihadists 10 years earlier.
As planned, he met with four mujahedin who had agreed to drive him to their leader for an interview.
But four hours into the journey, Dubois was blindfolded and told if his family cooperated he would be released. It was then he understood he was being kidnapped.
Dubois spent nearly two years as a hostage before finally being freed on March 20, 2023, alongside American aid worker Jeffery Woodke.
In an interview with VOA, Dubois spoke about his experiences, his failed attempts to escape, and how being a journalist allowed him to remove himself from the mental, physical and emotional pain.
Increased abductions
Dubois’ case highlights the dangers faced by journalists working in conflict zones, particularly in Africa’s Sahel region, where kidnappings are growing at an alarming rate.
Mali, Burkina Faso and Niger saw a combined 532 abductions in 2022, up from to 33 in 2017, according to the Armed Conflict Location and Event Data Project. Some 158 abduction incidents have already been recorded in the region this year.
Militaries across West Africa have staged coups in recent years, making the situation even more precarious for journalists.
“Military juntas have not hesitated to reshape the media landscape to better serve their interests,” said Sadibou Marong, West Africa director for Reporters Without Borders. “As soon as they took power in Mali, Burkina Faso and Chad, they tried to control the media by means of prohibition or restriction, and even attacks or arbitrary arrests.”
Life as a hostage
Dubois had originally traveled to Gao to interview a leader of Jama’at Nusrat al-Islam wal-Muslimin (JNIM), a coalition of jihadist insurgent groups active in the Sahel.
He had secured the interview and a written invitation through a trusted contact he had worked with for years.
He would later learn the invitation was fake.
“I think I was betrayed, maybe by my fixer or intermediary people who are close to my fixer,” he said.
Dubois has since spoken with JNIM members who told him they never received his interview request and denied involvement in the kidnapping.
Each night, beginning at 5:30 p.m., Dubois was chained by his ankle to a tree. He slept alongside insects atop a pebbled floor with only a thin mat. When it rained, his bed turned to mud.
During the day, he sweltered under the desert sun.
“You’re a prisoner,” he said. “You’re under an open sky, but you’re in jail.”
He quickly accepted his reality and created a routine to strengthen himself physically and mentally. Each morning, he exercised and practiced Chinese martial arts. He forced himself to experience his captivity as a journalist, as if removing himself as a participant and becoming an observer.
Dubois won a modicum of respect from his captors by reading the Koran. It was the first religious text he’d ever read.
“It’s a really important book for them. It's a pillar,” he said. “And I understood quickly that if I wanted to understand them and communicate more with them, I’d have to read this book, too.”
At one point, he asked his captors why he’d been kidnapped. They said they were at war with France, and as a French citizen on their territory, he was fair game.
Dubois was able to receive news from his family via Radio France International, which broadcasted their messages on the 8th of each month. He also received two letters from his family with the help of a non-governmental organization.
Five months into captivity, he was joined by another hostage—Gerco Van Deventer, a South African kidnapped in Libya in November 2017.
During his captivity, Dubois made a few attempts to escape.
He had figured out how to unlock his chain and noticed a window between 10 p.m. and 5 a.m. during which he could slip away, find the nearest road and hail down a car.
On his first attempt, the soles of his thin sandals became too worn to withstand the long trek and he returned before his captors awoke.
The second time he took the wrong path. On the third try he successfully made it to a road and waved down a large truck. There was one driver and one passenger, but neither spoke French.
“I said: ‘Please, please take me with you. I'm a hostage,’ but they didn't understand,” Dubois said. “I repeated: ‘Mujahedin, mujahedin,’ and at this moment, the driver's face changed and he left.”
Meanwhile, Dubois’ captors were tracking him via the footprints he’d left in the sand. By 11 a.m., they found him under a tree.
The release
In early March 2023, Dubois was told he would soon be released. But he wouldn’t allow himself to believe it—he’d interviewed many hostages throughout his career who said they’d often been given false promises of freedom.
But sure enough, on March 16, a mujahedin arrived on a motorbike and told him to pack a blanket and water bottle. He was driven deep into the desert and was left there for four days while some 10 other mujahedin patrolled nearby.
Two days in, he was joined by another hostage—Jeffery Woodke, who had spent six years in captivity after being kidnapped from his home in Niger.
On the fourth day, escorted by about 20 mujahedin, the pair were driven toward Niger. They were then put into another car, which drove them across the border and dropped them in front of two members of the French military. They were free.
“You just think about how this day will come, and suddenly you’re at the airport and the door of the plane opens. You go outside and you see your sister, your mother, your wife, your kids,” Dubois said. “It's a rush of emotions.”
Since returning to France, he’s tried to keep a normal routine and focus on reconnecting with his family. But reintegration to life in Paris has been a shock.
“A lot of it is disturbing,” he said. “I can take an Uber. The food is totally different. I have a television. I have a shower.”
He says he is eternally grateful for everyone who fought for his release: his family, friends, colleagues, and the governments of France, Niger and the United States.
Regardless of the risks, Dubois said he plans to resume his journalism career and may one day return to Mali, which, despite everything, he still loves.
“Step by step, I move forward. And I’ll go back to a normal life,” he said.
