In Bamako, Mali's capital city, the familiar sounds of car engines and horns have been replaced by those of shuffling feet.

Residents push depleted motorcycles through the city's dusty roads, frustrated by the fuel blockade that has paralysed Mali for more than two months.

Jama'at Nusrat al-Islam wal-Muslimin (JNIM), a jihadist, al-Qaeda-affiliated militia, has been attacking tankers bringing fuel into Mali, broadening its years-long insurgency to include economic warfare.

JNIM's fighters have kidnapped drivers and torched more than 100 trucks bound for Bamako.

Daily life has been upended for millions of Malians - schools and universities had to close, food prices have surged and hospitals are battling power cuts.

The fuel shortage has sparked concern outside of Mali, with the US urging Americans not to travel to Mali and France advising its citizens in the West African country to leave as soon as possible.

One defining image of the crisis is lengthy queues building up outside petrol stations.

"We're here waiting for fuel, and we've been here for more than four days now," Sidi Djiré, a taxi driver waiting at a petrol station in Bamako, tells the BBC.

Mr Djiré says he hopes Mali's military-led government solves the crisis soon, because "whether you're a vendor or a teacher, everyone's work has been affected".

At some forecourts in Bamako, motorists are met by a note bearing three, exasperating words - "no fuel today".

Many delivery and bus drivers have resorted to sleeping at petrol stations in the hope of being the first to refuel once supplies come in.

And with public transport fares tripling in some parts of the capital, some passengers have ditched the bus completely and are walking long distances to work.

At Bamako's Baco Djicoroni market, customer Assitan Diarra says that food prices have tripled.

"Times are really tough right now. But what can we do? We are at war. We pray that God brings ease and peace to our country," Ms Diarra says.

Traders tell the BBC prices have increased because transport costs have surged and the supply of imported goods has dwindled.

"The goods we used to get easily are no longer easily accessible due to the lack of transportation. For those of us who sell food products, the fuel shortage makes access to supplies difficult," Amadou Traoré says.

Behind the chaos appears to be a carefully orchestrated plan.

The junta had popular support when it seized power five years ago, promising to deal with the long-running security crisis, prompted by a separatist rebellion in the north, which was then hijacked by Islamist militants like JNIM.

But the Islamist insurgency has continued, and has made much of the north and east of the country ungovernable.

JNIM has intensified its attacks in this area over the past year, and the fuel blockade marks a significant escalation from its usual hit-and-run ambushes.

Mali is landlocked, so fuel supplies must be brought in by road from neighbouring states, such as Senegal and Ivory Coast.

By cutting off fuel - the lifeblood of transport, electricity, and logistics - JNIM is forcing the government into a defensive position.

The blockade also points to the geographic expansion of its insurgency, as JNIM's fighters are targeting highways linking Mali to its neighbours to the west and south.

The fuel has had a large impact on hospitals - diesel shortages mean many health facilities cannot run generators for long and therefore experience power cuts that threaten emergency services.

At Kalaban Coro Health Centre, medics are even struggling to show up for their shifts.

"Our personnel must be prompt and punctual in reporting to duty, but it has become extremely difficult for them to secure fuel just to commute to work," Dr Issa Guido tells the BBC.

Commuting has also been a problem for teachers and students. As a result, schools and universities were ordered to shut for two weeks. They reopened on Monday, but staff in some rural areas still reportedly failed to travel to work.

The havoc has touched millions of lives - and Malians are quietly raising questions about the government's capacity to respond.

In an attempt to ease the crisis, the junta had announced a series of emergency measures.

Army trucks loaded with soldiers have been escorting fuel convoys from the borders to the capital, however, the operations are fraught with security risks and some of convoys have been attacked regardless of the army's presence.

The government has also signed an emergency fuel supply agreement with Russia, reports say.

State media says Bamako is negotiating with Moscow for both refined petroleum imports and technical assistance to secure transport routes.

Officials insist the situation is under control, but critics accuse the junta of being reactive, rather than proactive.

The fuel shortage is a double-edged sword for the government, headed by coup leader Colonel Assimi Goïta.

On one hand, his regime can portray itself as a victim of jihadism, rallying nationalistic support and justifying tighter security measures.

On the other, the blockade has exposed the government's weakening reach beyond Bamako and undermined public confidence in a regime that came to power promising to tackle jihadism.

The fuel shortage has also increased the country's reliance on Russia.

Mercenary groups from Russia have supported Col Goïta's government since French and UN troops left, and further dependence could draw Mali further into Moscow's sphere of influence, potentially alienating Western aid and investment.

Relations with the US and European Union are already strained, while ties with France have virtually been severed.

But for ordinary Malians, geopolitics mean little when you are faced with unaffordable food prices and cannot get to work.

Amidou Diallo, a welder who has been fruitlessly searching for fuel for his generator, fears the shortages could lead to an increase in crime and a worsened security situation.

"We're facing a crisis," he tells the BBC. "If it continues like this, other problems may arise - and that could give people dangerous ideas."