Despite suffering from asthma and malaria, I was not visited by a doctor and was left without my medication. On rare occasions I was led, in chains, to the infirmary. I was suffering from diarrhoea, sickness and headaches as a result of the food, the unclean water and general insalubrity. The state of my health gradually deteriorated, made worse by the fact that it was impossible to sleep due to the incessant comings and goings in the police station both night and day. I would spend my day sitting or lying on the ground, suffering from loneliness, heat (the temperature could reach 55°C in the shade), hunger, foul smells, noise and screams. This nightmare lasted 100 days until my transfer to the prison in Bamako.

Life in prison was not much better. On arrival, I was taken to the punishment cells where I remained for five months. I was, however, merely someone accused of a crime, awaiting trial, and extradition.

My fellow inmates were criminals serving either life sentences or long sentences, or awaiting the death penalty.

There was violence all around. There was fighting, arguments and racketeering. There were four of us in a 6m2 cell, locked in from 6 in the evening until 6 in the morning, when we had to go out in to the courtyard for the roll call, even in the rain. We had one single bucket which served as a toilet between us. We had no privacy when going to the toilet.

During the day there were about forty of us in a courtyard of around 100m2 with a wire mesh covering so that we couldn’t even see the sky. We did everything in this courtyard, from getting washed; to cooking over charcoal and washing our clothes. We had one cold-water tap for 40 inmates which was connected to a hose. We used it as a shower, for cooking purposes, to do the washing up, and to clean our buckets. Our obsession, until we went back to our cells at 6 in the evening, was to find shade. Then we would sleep on a mat, piled up like cardboard boxes because the cell was so small. My sleep went from being broken to very bad. At worst it was impossible to sleep. Our personal belongings were piled on the ground in a corner or hung up in plastic bags.

We shared the cell with mice, rats and cockroaches as well as flies and mosquitos that were attracted by the stagnant water in the neighbourhood and the smell of the prison.

With no glass in our two windows, that each measured 20cm x 10cm and were more than 2.5m above the ground, rain and wind used to sweep in to the cell. The rest of the time, the heat was oppressive, despite our small fan which was subject to the vagaries of the electricity supply. The air in the cell was stifling. The smells of sweat and filth mixed with those from the bucket which we used as our toilet.

Once the door was closed we were practically in complete darkness as power cuts were frequent. I lived in fear, scared to death, permanently suffocated. We were hungry. Each morning we were given a sort of porridge, then a dish of beans without meat. We were mainly able to buy pasta and rice in the prison canteen. It was impossible to buy fresh produce, vegetables, meat or tinned foods.

Our refuse was stored in a dustbin in the courtyard which was then emptied onto the ground on the other side of the wire fence. It stank. We were always ill. At the prison I had access to the sickbay and my medication. I was even screened for tuberculosis by the Red Cross.

The rooms used for meetings with our lawyers were small with no window or fan – it was unbearable. An Interpol officer was always in the room, less than 1.5 metres away from us, with no thought for professional secrecy or client-lawyer confidentiality.

It was worse when families came to visit. One bench seating five people was placed on the other side of the wire fencing of our courtyard. Personally, I didn’t have any visits during my detention. As for telephone calls, inmates had no access. Time dragged, all the more so since there were no work opportunities in the prisons in Mali. When I asked for a mattress or a book, the French officer who had carried out my questioning, told me that only the Consul was in a position to see to my requests, assuring me that the Consul would visit me shortly. Needless to say, I never had a visit. Boredom reigned. No activity of any sort was allowed.
We had nothing to do. We survived.