The Craziest Live Show: Over a Million Viewers Watch Him Steal, and Everyone Calls Him a Hero

Haidara and his colleagues at the library association decided the first step was to move the ancient manuscripts out of the building and hide them in various homes. But there was a major problem: they had no money and no safe way to transport the books. Over the years, Haidara had raised significant funds from international donors to help build the library and protect the manuscripts. At that moment, he had $12,000 in his account—funds originally provided by the Ford Foundation to help him study English at Oxford. Haidara reached out to the foundation, asking if he could repurpose the funds for an urgent need: to buy boxes.

Haidara enlisted his 12-year-old nephew, Mohamed Touré, who had been working with him at the library since a young age and admired his uncle greatly. Haidara had promised to train him to become the next scholar, just as his own father had once trained him. Together, they reached out to everyone they trusted—mostly librarians, secretaries, tour guides, and family members. These volunteers, under the radar, began searching the city for stores still open, buying large metal suitcases. Each volunteer was careful to only purchase two or three a day to avoid suspicion. Once the metal suitcases ran out, they began buying wooden boxes, then, when those too were exhausted, they turned to oil drums, which they had transformed into boxes at a local factory. Within a month, they had prepared 2,500 boxes.

During this time, Haidara also began looking for safe houses to temporarily store the manuscripts. He didn’t know what consequences his actions might bring, so he started with his cousin’s home. “I want to hide some boxes filled with manuscripts at your house. It could be dangerous. Would you be willing to help?” he asked.

“Why wouldn’t I? I’d do anything for you,” she responded. She led him to a storage room deep in her house, filled with bags of grain. “You can always use this space to store the boxes here.”

Haidara reached out to dozens of other family members and friends, and not a single one turned him away.

One evening in late April, Haidara, his nephew Touré, and several volunteers gathered at the library. They had a two-hour window each night before the curfew at 9:00 p.m. to pack and move the manuscripts. They carried two large boxes at a time, quietly crossing the courtyard into the main building and locking the door behind them. In the darkness, they spoke in hushed tones. With the guidance of the library guards, they opened the display cabinets in the main hall and carefully removed the manuscripts on display. The city’s power would be cut off at night, so they used flashlights to illuminate the space. The beams reflected off the glass display cases, casting an eerie glow on their faces and on the yellowing pages of the ancient books.

Everyone was anxious about being caught, but there was also an adrenaline rush. One by one, they passed the manuscripts, gently placing them into the boxes. In near pitch darkness, packing the manuscripts felt like assembling a jigsaw puzzle, trying to maximize the use of the limited space. Though the books were inevitably damaged from the tight packing and jostling, there was no money for cushioning materials, cardboard boxes, or dehumidifiers. Haidara reassured himself: at least this was better than them being burned.

Time was running out, so there was little conversation. They worked in silence, listening intently for any suspicious sounds outside. They couldn’t risk alerting the patrolling militants, especially after curfew, when it could lead to interrogation, beatings, or imprisonment. As they moved between the shelves, they always made sure to avoid shining their flashlights, feeling their way through the dark.

Once the packing was complete, they locked the boxes with padlocks, secured the library doors again, and scattered into the narrow alleyways, making sure they were back home before curfew. The next evening, they would return to the library. The boxes filled the previous night were wrapped in blankets and loaded onto mule carts, then quietly blended into the flow of traffic, making their way to the safe houses.