On the large map of the world that adorns my study, the name Tombouctou appears near the Niger River, in the African country of Mali. My map, it turns out, uses the French language spelling for a name more commonly known to our world as Timbuktu.

The French colonial forces took over this ancient city in 1893 and made it part of what they called French Sudan. Mali has existed as an independent state since 1960. Until recently, Mali has been a relatively stable but desperately poor country.  Now the nation’s freedom has been deeply threatened by Islamist forces.

Last month the French government responded to an appeal from Mali to help repel the forces who had taken over most of the country’s northern region. French troops have responded effectively and, in alliance with the Malian army, have succeeded in recapturing several cities, including Timbuktu.

These 2Ist-century battles sound almost legendary to me, because of one city’s name.  When I was growing up, the word Timbuktu meant the furthest away and the strangest place you could imagine. Without knowing anything about the place, people used to say things like “You can take that bet all the way to Timbuktu.” But I had no idea where it was located, and could only fantasize about exotic happenings there.

It’s not that my young schooling bypassed geography entirely.  I remember learning the names of state capitals and the principal products of each region of our own country.  But I don’t think we were told much about Africa. That continent was too remote for the curricula of those days.

Besides, the nation of Mali did not exist when I was in the elementary schools of Belmont and Watertown, Massachusetts.  It fid not occur to us that there was a great Muslim kingdom of Mali a century before Columbus was born.

The name of Timbuktu represents more than an impossibly remote place. It was a prestigious center of learning seven centuries ago, and its great mosques and holy places witness to a remarkable heritage.

In recent months, however, deliberate and savage efforts were made to destroy that heritage.

When they held Timbuktu during most of the past year, the Islamists inflicted serious damage on the great edifices of Timbuktu.  Intolerant of the very idea of Muslim saints, they destroyed many of the shrines where holy people were venerated.

The invaders also burned many ancient and valued manuscripts that had been preserved for centuries. Now that Timbuktu is free we learn that, amazingly, hundreds of these treasured texts were successfully hidden during the Islamist occupation, and have been restored to their rightful place.

For the government of Mali to have called on France, their former colonial ruler, to help them in a time of crisis has to rank as one of the most unusual recent world events. This joint success has pleased the American government because some of the militants may well be affiliated with Al Qaeda.

This saga involving a northwestern country of Africa emerges for me as one more instance of change in my lifetime. Timbuktu has gone from being a catch phrase of my childhood to a battleground of cultures.

Religion has been one of my deepest interests over the entire stretch of my life. ln recent decades, I have realized how little I knew about Islam. I now welcome opportunities to learn more about that faith, and I feel fortunate to have contacts with Muslims.

But like the Muslims I know, I hate the fanaticism that has led to abominations committed against the people of Mali and their culture. I feel thankful for the rescue of Timbuktu and hope its people will remain free.