Old Ousmane Djebare Djenepo smiles as he watches the placid waters of the Niger flowing around his wooden canoe. The 76-year-old man is one of the many Malians who make a living from the river and the verdant wetlands that surround it. But Djenepo's smile hides apprehensions. "Before, the river was deep and the fishing seasons were long," he says. "There are far fewer fish now and the river has too many problems." Djenepo heads the association of fishermen in the inland delta of the Niger River, a vast area of ​​land in central Mali the size of Switzerland. Ecological problems threaten the survival of local populations, already hit hard by the violence of armed jihadist groups who have taken control of the region and governed its most profitable trafficking (drugs, weapons, migrants).

"From bad to worse"

Since the Islamic militants launched their insurrection in 2012, terror has spread among the inhabitants who live on the Niger, and repeated attacks on civilians - costing the lives of thousands of defenceless citizens - have emptied entire villages. Due to the insecurity, many farmers have abandoned the small plot of land where they once grew courgettes, onions, tomatoes and aubergines. The armed raids by the jihadists, who travel on motorbikes and carry Kalashnikovs, are usually carried out while people are working in the fields, or along the roads on market days when farmers go to town with their carts to sell their vegetables. In an increasingly uncertain situation, those who remain have no choice but to entrust their lives to the river, which has always guaranteed daily food and in the event of an attack can represent an escape route. But the problems remain. Overfishing has depleted the fish fauna in the inner Niger Delta and the Sahara Desert is also invading the green floodplains.

Boukary Guindo, director of the government's fisheries department for the region, does not hide his concerns: "The situation is going from bad to worse." The inner Niger Delta is a complex ecosystem that provides sustenance to communities of fishermen, farmers and herders. During the floods of the rainy season, only pirogues can cross it. But when the waters recede, vast meadows of fresh grass emerge, attracting livestock from across the semi-arid Sahel. Today, this alternation is disappearing.

Wars between the poor

"The Sahara is 'swallowing' the Niger River," says bluntly Hamidou Touré, head of the delta's fisheries development office. "Every week, new sandbanks cut off the once productive areas of the delta, and the fish cannot survive in the pools, which evaporate under an increasingly harsh sun." Also to blame are the dams built since the 1970s, which have altered the course of the third longest river on the African continent and reduced its flow. Today, the climate of the Sahel, increasingly marked by prolonged droughts, is bleeding the Niger dry. "The heat causes strong evaporation along the watercourse," notes Hamidou Touré. "In Bamako the river has a flow of a thousand cubic meters, which however halves after about 500 kilometres." And every year new negative rainfall records are recorded. "The result is there for all to see: an environmental and human catastrophe waiting to happen," says Ibrahima Sankaré, of the humanitarian NGO Delta Survie. "What was once the green heart of the Sahel is becoming arid and unproductive. And this is upsetting the fragile balance between populations, which for centuries have guaranteed peaceful coexistence between Fulani herders, Bambara farmers and Bozo fishermen." With the progressive impoverishment of resources, tensions increase and the rules of customary law devised in ancient times and passed down orally for generations are being undermined. In the dry season the waters of the river lower and allow small grassy islands to emerge in the middle of the river. The fishermen then move and build makeshift huts and exploit new fishing areas. Getting food from the river is a matter of survival, but every human activity in these lands has an impact on the environment that can cause problems and conflicts.

We, the civilians, are targeted

"Our Bozo cousins ​​think that fish fall from the sky," says Boukary Guindo with a sad smile. "They don't respect the periods of fishing closing periods and raid the breeding specimens, but in doing so they risk decimating the stocks.” Guindo’s work would consist of raising awareness among fishermen of the need to deal with the river responsibly, encouraging them, for example, to use nets that spare the smaller fish. However, the widespread insecurity in central Mali prevents field work.

Since al-Qaeda-affiliated jihadists have advanced into this region, the area has become one of the bloodiest battlefields in the Sahel conflict, where the government has little control. “We are at the mercy of bandits and militiamen,” shouts in despair Barthélémy Ouédraogo, a farmer who lives in the red zone – an area considered highly dangerous where the authorities allow access only to the military. “The problem is that we don’t even feel protected by those who should defend us. The French army and military personnel who were once stationed in these parts have given way to Russian mercenaries called in to clear the area of ​​jihadists. But we civilians are often the ones targeted by their weapons. We live in terror at the mercy of those who impose their law by force." Some Bozo fishermen said that Islamist militants sometimes block access to fishing grounds and demand taxes, and have no qualms about shooting anyone who dares to rebel against their authority. Political uncertainty

In 2018, jihadists kidnapped the men of Rokia Keita's family who lived on the banks of the Niger. "An armed group ordered the pirogues we were trying to escape in to stop on the river bank." The woman pleaded with the militants in vain. "They took my husband, two children and two brothers. I have never seen them again," she says between sobs. Across the border, in the state of Niger, the situation is unchanged: every week there are jihadist attacks on villages, barracks, convoys.

And security has certainly not improved with the coup of July 26 that removed President Mohamed Bazoum and installed a military junta in power (as already happened in Guinea, Burkina Faso and Mali). For months, al-Qaeda groups have been exploiting the situation of instability and political uncertainty in the region to launch attacks on military bases, villages, gold and uranium mines. Those who pay the price are especially the communities in the Nigerien area of ​​the so-called “Triple Frontier” (the Liptako-Gourma area) at the intersection of Mali, Burkina Faso and Niger: the most affected by the jihadist insurgency.

Pirogues and camels

Indifferent to the problems of men, the Niger continues to flow placidly across the scorching plains of the Sahel, connecting Bamako and Niamey, two capitals at the crisis centre. It is a long and uncertain journey, that of the river that challenges the desert. The anthropologist Marco Aime says: "As you travel along the great bend of the river, the landscape becomes increasingly arid. The trees thin out, until they give way to solitary shrubs, whose twisted and shrivelled roots seem to reveal their will to survive an increasingly aggressive sun. Then there is only the sand of the desert. It is no coincidence that precisely at the point where the Niger penetrates furthest north into the Sahara, Timbuktu arose, the place where, as the Arab chronicler as-Sadi wrote, those who travel by pirogue meet those who travel by camel. It was an extremely strategic place for trade. Here, goods from the Mediterranean were exchanged for goods arriving from the interior of Africa. Here arose one of the most important cities in African history and beyond”.

The glories of the past do not correspond to an equally glorious present. The ancient caravan cities such as Timbuktu and Gao are today in sharp decline, marked by isolation, the advance of the desert and terrorism.

The unchanged charm of the river

But the Niger, despite environmental alarms and the instability of the regions it crosses, maintains its charm unchanged. “Navigating its waters is an experience that touches you deeply,” continues Marco Aime's story. “If the famous ascent of the Congo River, masterfully narrated by Joseph Conrad, meant entering the Africa heart of darkness, traveling the sticky waters of the Niger is like going towards an ever brighter, ever paler nothingness, where everything slowly dissolves.”

We travel at the slow pace of the pinasses, with their sails made of cement bags sewn together. Enormous patches that intercept the tired breezes of the river, to push people and goods. "On the banks, villages made of earth houses and straw domes parade slowly. The herds of nomadic shepherds are part of the landscape, as are the small pirogues of the fishermen looking for a good place to cast their nets."

It is that unchanged landscape that inspired Ali Farka Touré, the king of the Sahel blues, guitarist and Malian musician who passed away in 2006, whose vibrant music was born on the banks of the Niger and drew strength from its waters. "Unique sounds," notes Marco Aime, "that slipped between sweetness and desperation with a simplicity that only the real life of this part of Africa can express."

See, Le acque che portano speranza nel Sahel

Photo. Sunset with Canoe on the Niger River