Into Africa

FINDING your way around Ouagadougou, the capital of Burkina Faso, should be easy to do. Wide, ramshackle boulevards radiate from plazas and monuments-this is French Africa, after all-and even the hovel-lined dirt alleys are organized into a relentless grid. Buzzards perch on top of the streetlamps that line the avenues, making you feel, as you drive down the street, like a float in a creepy parade.

The trouble starts at night. The milky layer of wood smoke and dust that during the day creates a bustling charm, at night becomes a vaguely alarming, eye-watering fog. And forget the street lamps. The best they’ll do is flicker. So if you’re driving around the city in a taxicab, as I was several weeks ago, with an address in your pocket for a place you were told showcases live music and cold beer, be prepared to drive around awhile.

About the Author

Rob Long

Rob Long is a writer and producer and a co-founder of Ricochet.

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FINDING your way around Ouagadougou, the capital of Burkina Faso, should be easy to do. Wide, ramshackle boulevards radiate from plazas and monuments-this is French Africa, after all-and even the hovel-lined dirt alleys are organized into a relentless grid. Buzzards perch on top of the streetlamps that line the avenues, making you feel, as you drive down the street, like a float in a creepy parade.

The trouble starts at night. The milky layer of wood smoke and dust that during the day creates a bustling charm, at night becomes a vaguely alarming, eye-watering fog. And forget the street lamps. The best they’ll do is flicker. So if you’re driving around the city in a taxicab, as I was several weeks ago, with an address in your pocket for a place you were told showcases live music and cold beer, be prepared to drive around awhile.