I close my eyes and adjust my breathing to the gentle rise and fall of the chestnut stallion’s hooves.
‘Ali, please,’ I murmur. ‘Take me to Mopti.’
‘Whatever you say,’ he says. ‘But stop calling me Ali. My name is Abdullai.’
Thank you for choosing to read Blood & Ink. I do hope you enjoyed it.
This book is based on real events in Timbuktu in 2012. As you know, historical fiction is a tricky genre. How true should you remain to the actual events? How much should you embellish or invent?
All of the characters in Blood & Ink are entirely fabricated, with the exception of Redbeard (also known as Omar Ould Hamaha, or as Akka), whose colourful history and equally colourful goatee beard ensured his appearance in the story. At the time of writing, he was still at large with a $3 million reward on his head. He is since believed to have been killed in French air strikes.
At the heart of this novel are the cultural and religious differences between the moderate Sufi Muslims of Timbuktu and the hardline Defenders of Faith. I have described these two groups as best as I can through the eyes of Kadija and Ali.
It is true that the invasion of Timbuktu was accomplished by Tuareg rebels, with only a little help from the Defenders. I made up the details of the invasion using the first rule of fiction writing: If in doubt, add ninjas.
The betrayal of the Tuaregs by the Defenders of Faith happened more or less as described. They were given two hours to leave town.
The rules of the new regime (the list of crimes incurring lashes) are authentic. The ban on music included musical ringtones. Many of the key moments in the plot are based on real events, including the destruction of the bars and nightclubs, the anti-veil protest by the women of Timbuktu and the smuggling operation in which Timbuktu manuscripts were hidden beneath crates of vegetables and loaded into canoes. The smuggling lasted several weeks, though – it did not happen all in one night.
The occupation of Timbuktu lasted for nine months, after which the city was liberated by French and Malian forces. Ansar Dine fled into the desert, setting fire to the Ahmad Baba Library on their way out of the city. Thanks to the success of the Guardians’ smuggling operation, hardly any manuscripts were destroyed. Sporadic terrorist attacks continue in the region, but at the time of writing, the citizens of Timbuktu remain free and defiant. In 2013 they elected their first ever female MP.
All of the legends of the saints of Timbuktu are authentic, but I have retold them in my own words. When the tombs of the saints were destroyed by the Defenders of Faith, local and international outrage was considerable.
I have never visited Timbuktu, but I have taken pains to ensure that the geography of Timbuktu is correct. For reasons which seemed good at the time, I moved the Ahmad Baba Library to the top of Askia Avenue, but I have left everything else in its proper place.
It is true that there was a stampede outside the Djinguereber Mosque during the feast of Mouloud in 2010. Twenty-six people were crushed to death. Half of them were children.
The Door of Heaven was a real door in the Sidi Yahya Mosque. It was broken down by the Defenders and the imam of the mosque was offered 50,000 francs for its repair. He refused the money.
It is true that the children of some Guardians in Timbuktu take an oath at the age of seventeen to protect the manuscripts in their care.
Ahmad Baba (1556–1627) was the greatest scholar in the history of Timbuktu. That phrase about the ink of the scholars weighing more than the blood of the martyrs is original to him.
John 8, the story of Jesus’s response to a woman caught in adultery, is a manuscript fragment which was not originally part of the Gospel of John. I have imagined an Arabic translation of this fragment being brought to Timbuktu by Ahmad Baba in the early seventeenth century, via Damascus and Marrakesh. It is true that manuscripts made their way to Timbuktu from all over the world, but I do not know for sure that this fragment was among them.
The Russian AK-47 assault rifle is used in conflicts all over the world. Its inventor, Mikhail Kalashnikov, died in December 2013. Shortly before his death he wrote a long letter describing his ‘spiritual pain’ over the many deaths it caused, and asking whether he was to blame for those deaths. ‘The longer I live,’ he wrote, ‘the more this question drills itself into my brain and the more I wonder why the Lord allowed man to have the devilish desires of envy, greed and aggression.’
Thank you to Sarah Pakenham, who first directed my attention to Naveena Kottoor’s BBC World Service article ‘How Timbuktu’s manuscripts were smuggled to safety’, the seed from which this story grew. And because a novelist relies on the generosity and insight of others, my thanks are due also to Dr Mohammed Mathee, Shindouk Ould Najim, Miranda Dodd, Dr John Hunwick, Marc and Helen Gallagher, Keith Smith, Andy James, Carolyn Reid, Megan Kerr, editors Charlie Sheppard and Chloe Sackur, agent extraordinaire Julia Churchill and (as always) my ingenious wife Charlie.
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