When Marin Petrović landed in Mali in early September last year, it felt like a long-awaited victory. The Bosnian adventurer had spent years applying for tourist visas to the conflict-scarred country, repeatedly rejected because of security concerns. When approval finally came, he was eager to explore.
Posting on Instagram in November 2025, Petrović described his excitement at wandering through the capital, Bamako—taking in markets, schools, traffic-clogged streets, and even sampling local beer. His plan was to travel onward to Mopti, home to the famed Grand Mosque, a century-old mud-brick structure rising 15 metres high along the Niger River.
But the journey never reached its destination.
On the road between Bla and San, Petrović says his vehicle was ambushed. In his own words, six motorbikes carrying armed, bearded militants surrounded the car. He was dragged off the road, forced through bushland and swamps, and taken deep into the countryside.
“I was kidnapped by al-Qaeda jihadists,” he wrote.
His abduction reflects a sharp and troubling rise in the kidnapping of foreign nationals across the Sahel, a vast region stretching across West Africa that has become increasingly lawless amid insurgencies, coups, and weakened state authority.
A Growing Pattern of Abductions
According to data from ACLED, kidnappings of foreigners in Mali and Niger increased significantly in 2025. By the end of November, at least 30 separate incidents involving foreign nationals had been recorded, with the final annual figure expected to be higher.
Several cases drew global attention. In September, two citizens of the United Arab Emirates—one reportedly linked to the Emirati royal family—were abducted in Mali. Details surrounding their visit remain unclear, though local reports suggested possible involvement in gold-mining ventures. The men were released just over a month later after a ransom reportedly totalling $50m (£37m).
In Niger, two other high-profile kidnappings shocked observers: 73-year-old Austrian humanitarian Eva Gretzmacher, and US civilian pilot Kevin Rideout. Gretzmacher’s abduction marked the first kidnapping of a European Union citizen since Niger’s 2023 military coup, highlighting the country’s worsening security situation.
While kidnappings overwhelmingly affect African nationals—often numbering in the thousands each year due to banditry and forced disappearances—foreign abductions have become a strategic tool for armed groups.
BBC Monitoring analysis shows that Chinese nationals were the most frequently kidnapped foreigners in Africa last year. Of 89 documented cases, 38 involved Chinese citizens, far exceeding the next most affected group, Indians, with 14 cases. Roughly 70% of all foreign kidnappings occurred in Mali and Niger.
Many Chinese victims were employed in mining operations in Mali’s gold-rich south-west, particularly in Kayes, Sikasso and Koulikoro, where Chinese companies have expanded amid rising global gold prices.
Jihadist Strategy and Economic Pressure
The primary driver behind the spike in abductions is Jama’at Nusrat al-Islam wal-Muslimin (JNIM), an al-Qaeda-linked group responsible for a surge in attacks across Mali, Niger and Burkina Faso.
Ransoms are believed to account for as much as 40% of JNIM’s annual income, according to the Institute for Economics and Peace. Foreign hostages are especially valuable, commanding higher payouts and providing leverage in negotiations with governments.
“Ransom is an obvious incentive,” said Héni Nsaibia, ACLED’s senior West Africa analyst. “But kidnapping also fits into a broader strategy of economic warfare.”
Since late 2024, JNIM has targeted fuel convoys bound for Bamako, disrupting supplies and paralysing parts of the capital. Kidnappings, Nsaibia argues, are another way to destabilise the economy and weaken Mali’s military rulers, who seized power in 2020.
Chinese workers, he added, are particularly attractive targets because of Beijing’s close economic ties with the Malian state. “They’re involved in mining, construction, and infrastructure. Undermining that relationship raises the cost of foreign investment.”
Life in Captivity
Petrović spent nearly two months in captivity. In a follow-up post, he described sleeping on bare ground, drinking boiled pond water contaminated by cattle, surviving on dry rice, and fending off scorpions nightly.
Despite the constant fear of execution, he said he occasionally glimpsed humanity among his captors—an observation that sparked controversy online. “Some of them opened up over time,” he wrote, adding that appearances and ideology did not always erase basic human emotion.
He was released in late October, alongside another Bosnian national, after 50 days. No ransom was paid, according to Nsaibia.
The analyst believes the decision reflects a strategic shift. JNIM is increasingly cautious about abducting Westerners, aiming to improve its standing with international actors and avoid provoking heavy diplomatic or military retaliation.
This marks a departure from earlier years, when Western nationals—including British workers in Algeria—were frequently targeted.
China’s approach may also influence outcomes. Beijing is widely seen as less likely to apply public pressure in hostage cases, though recent signals suggest a possible change in stance.
For Petrović, survival came down to resilience and experience. He credits his background in mountain rescue—and his ability to “play the game” psychologically—for getting through captivity alive.
But his ordeal underscores a stark reality: for foreigners in the Sahel, the risks are rising fast, and the line between adventure and abduction has never been thinner.
