For months, Mali’s president, Ibrahim Boubakar Keita, has been hounded by a short, harsh refrain: Boua ka bla. In Bambara, the West African country’s most widely spoken language, the words mean, roughly, “The old man must give up.” In the context of Malian politics, they articulate a clear demand that Keita, who is 73, leave office when his term expires this year.
In songs and at rallies, the phrase has been taken up by a host of government critics. The most prominent among them is the activist and radio personality Mohamed Youssouf Bathily, popularly known as “Ras Bath,” who the magazine Jeune Afrique described in a profile last August as a kind of “guide” for Mali’s youth.
Keita, known to Malians as IBK, finally responded in late April. During a visit to Segou, located roughly 200 kilometers northeast of the capital, Bamako, he told a crowd that the phrase Boua ka bla “makes me laugh,” and dismissed those who embrace it as lazy. “Thank you for letting us do our job,” he said. “I’m not saying Boua ta bla”—the old man will not give up—“but it’s not the moment. Because I’m doing well and can take up the challenge of developing the country.”
The back-and-forth over the fate of “the old man” points to one of the major tensions sure to be on display when Mali holds its presidential election two months from now. While younger Malians, both inside and outside the political class, might be eager for a generational changing of the guard, they’re going to have a hard time forcing out their elders, who have shown little interest in going anywhere. This could exacerbate a sense of stagnation in a country that has failed to meaningfully reckon with the problems that plunged it into chaos in 2012—a year that brought a military coup and saw Mali lose control of half its territory to rebels and Islamist militants.
At this stage, the field of presidential candidates is still sorting itself out, though it is slowly starting to come into focus. IBK has yet to formally announce his re-election bid, but his remarks in Segou represented about as clear an indication of his intentions as one could hope for.
On the opposition side, one of the strongest—if not the strongest—challengers is likely to be Soumaila Cisse, the 68-year-old lawmaker and opposition leader who lost in the presidential runoff vote to IBK in 2013. On May 12, Cisse formalized his candidacy at a rally that drew tens of thousands of supporters, filling Bamako’s biggest stadium. The show of force was a reminder that Cisse and his political party, the Union for the Republic and Democracy, are well-positioned to rival IBK’s organizational capacity nationwide. Though a lot may change between now and Election Day, the country could be looking at a repeat of the two men’s showdown five years ago.
This year’s election in Mali could end up generating far less hope and optimism than the last one.Unfortunately for IBK, many of the issues that will animate the election also remain unchanged from 2013. When he assumed office, Mali was trying to turn the page on the worst crisis it had experienced since independence. Army Capt. Amadou Sanogo, the leader of the 2012 coup, had been sidelined, at least officially, and a French-led military intervention had successfully kicked jihadists out of the major cities in the north. The hope was that a new, democratically elected government could right the ship of state, and IBK played into those expectations, promising Malians a period of renewal. “Wearing white Islamic robes and glancing heavenwards,” one reporter observed at the time, “he pledges to restore Mali’s battered dignity.”
Yet as Alex Thurston noted in a briefing for WPR last December, little tangible progress has been made on the main challenges IBK faced. Insecurity remains rife in northern and central Mali. In some areas, it has worsened, and a peace deal struck in 2015 has yielded few dividends.
Even in southern Mali, where the security situation is better, analysts say voters are frustrated with poor health care and education and persistent unemployment and corruption. “The sense of disappointment among Malians is great,” says Ibrahim Maiga, a Bamako-based researcher with the Institute for Security Studies.
Apart from Cisse, the list of other potential challengers to IBK includes several politicians who allied themselves with the president at various stages during his term. Moussa Mara, for example, served as prime minister in 2014 and 2015, while Housseini Amion Guindo served as a Cabinet minister until just a few weeks ago. Both men also ran for president in 2013, though they finished with support in the low single digits.
Mara and Guindo have one other important thing in common: They are both in their 40s, meaning they could benefit from voters’ wish to see new blood at the highest levels of Malian politics.
In the end, though, this wish is perhaps doomed to go unmet this year. Maiga says it is more likely that Mara and Guindo would fall short of being real contenders, instead using presidential bids in 2018 to test their ability to build out support infrastructure nationwide, with an eye toward the presidential race in 2023. If he wins re-election this time around, IBK would be barred from seeking a third term under Mali’s constitution five years from now, raising the possibility of a more even contest.
If this summer’s vote does indeed become a rerun of the previous runoff between IBK and Cisse, it’s unclear what the result would be. Abdoul Karim Sylla, a Malian political blogger, says that while he is confident in IBK’s ability to ride the benefits of incumbency to a spot in the second round, his many liabilities make him vulnerable after that. “In the second round, anything is possible,” he says.
What is clear, though, is that unless a fresh face catches fire in the weeks to come, this year’s election will end up generating far less hope and optimism than the last one. Younger Malians will need to steel themselves for another five years of disappointment.