What to Pack for Burkina Faso

You'll meet ragged Ouagagadougou sidewalks and laterite village paths. Closed-toe shoes block the red dust. Mesh or canvas keeps feet from stewing.

Sweat evaporates before you feel it. Five quick-dry shirts let you rinse in a bucket at night and wear them dry by dawn, because outside the cities no one will do it for you.

Roll shirts, squeeze air, lock the zipper. The cubes free up space and keep the Harmattan's reddish talc from sneaking into your folds.

At the Grand Marché you'll want both hands free to count CFA and fend off jostling elbows. A packable day-bag stuffs into its own pocket once the mangoes are bought.

Burkina Faso uses Type C and Type E outlets (220 V/50 Hz). Hotels in Ouagadougou and Bobo-Dioulasso mix both. One universal plug ends the guessing game.

Lights die without warning. A 20 000 mAh brick keeps camera, phone and GPS alive on the road to Niansogoni or during a blackout in the capital.

Dust plus flex equals frayed copper. Carry a spare USB-C and Lightning. Braided sheaths survive the Sahel better than plastic.

Engine drone on the Ouaga, Bobo run lasts six hours. At night the city answers with claxons and call-and-response music. Earplugs buy you silence in both cases.

Midday heat enforces siesta. A 6-inch Kindle holds a shelf of guidebooks yet weighs less than a mango, and the front-light beats the Sahel glare.

A small zip-bag with plasters, rehydration salts and loperamide is insurance. City pharmacies exist. But on the laterite tracks you're the only medic.

Hard water chews through liquids. A bar of soap or solid shampoo skips spills, lathers in a bucket and outlives three plastic bottles.

Toothbrush heads collect dust like everything else. A USB-charged brush in a hard case stays clean and never needs a socket.

Bring twice what you need in your carry-on. The pharmacy in Fada N'Gourma may never have heard of your thyroid meds.

A slim RFID wallet keeps boarding pass, visa and passport together at Ouagadougou airport check-in and thwarts the crowd's wandering hands.

A waist belt hides a wad of CFA, your back-up Visa and a photocopy of your passport while you haggle in the Dafra animist market.

A TSA lock keeps your duffel zipped on the bus roof rack and lets you lock a hostel locker if you find one.

Windows face the street, bulbs stay on, curtains barely exist. A cloth mask turns day into night and saves your sanity.

The muezzin starts at 04:45, scooters follow, then the generator coughs. Foam plugs plus eye mask equal sleep.

Tap water is a gamble. A 500 ml silicone bottle rolls to pocket size when empty. Fill only from sealed or filtered sources.

Sun is blunt. Rain is sudden. A fist-sized umbrella gives instant shade in April and keeps your shirt dry in an August cloudburst.

Vendors expect you to produce your own bag. A cloth tote folds to fist size, cuts plastic and earns a smile at Bobo's Marché.

Streetlights are decorative. A 200-lumen headlamp lights the path to Loropéni ruins and leaves hands free to swat mosquitoes.

When the village shop stocks only warm cola, chlorine-dioxide tablets turn well-water into something you can swallow.