“I don’t know if I can do this?”

The first night I arrived in Materi I was full of enthusiasm. It did not faze me that I had no furniture, and I was sitting on the floor trying to cook macaroni and cheese. I have never enjoyed cornflakes so much in my entire life—I despised most dry cereal as a child. I was excited to be finally beginning my service as a Peace Corps volunteer.

The harmony I felt that first night was short lived. Over the next two days the fact that I am an American living in Africa started setting in. It is not that I have not come accustomed to being one of the very few white people in Benin—the other white people being predominately volunteers. No the adjustment was different. It was that I was not living in a manor that I have ever lived, and the hope for change was far away, if it was at all possible. It was not as if I did not know the circumstances I was walking into, it was that I did not know truly how it would make me feel.

On my second day as I shuffled around items, not knowing where to put them; there was no other place to put them, but in a different room, on a different floor. My clothes had no home, not even over the mosquito net, as they had hung in Porto-Novo. I could not hang my helmet on a rack, and I could not take the food out of cement sacks, for fear that ants or some other bugs would descend upon it. And as I wandered around my house aimlessly I felt tears welling up. I was shocked at this response. I don’t think I had actually registered how much things were different for me, until that moment. I tried to pretend the emotions filling in my eyes were not actually there. I kept about shuffling items, and finally I sat down on my mattress, which was on the floor, only partially covered, because I don’t have a sheet to fit it. I sat there, and stared at the blank cement wall, and deep down I really felt that maybe I can’t do this.

I can not think of any time in my life that I have felt this way. I don’t think I have ever felt I could not do something. I have been stressed out, and thought something was too hard, and I have not wanted to do many things. Even when I had been up over 24 hours working on my senior thesis, and knowing I had to drive into Washington, D.C. for work, my body so tired, I never thought I can’t do this. Sure, I might have said it, but I didn’t really believe it. Just last week I was talking to another volunteer about my firm believe that I can do anything I set my mind to. And here I was less than a few days after swearing in, and thinking, “I don’t know if I can do this.” But this time I really began to think I believed it. It is a frightening to feel something you have never really truly felt before. Like when your heart is broken for the first time, and you don’t know if you ever can love again. Many other feelings we encounter for the first time, we do so when we are young, and more resilient. I could not tell you how I felt the first time I was truly scared. I have been scared since, but I think subconsciously I know it is temporary. I suppose I should feel grateful to have gone so far in life without really feeling a possibility of defeat, but honestly it scared me to think I could willing admit not being able to do something. And honestly, part of me thought, “If I don’t have the strength, than who does?”

I am constantly surprised of the information that bubbles to the surface the longer I am here. My mother once asked me to read a book, whose name of course escapes me because I never finished it. But I do remember a specific part in the book. It talked about the value we place on material items, but that when it comes down to it, we really aren’t the items we so value. I totally agreed with this doctrine, and admittedly I felt pity for those so attached to material items that they could never realize it. Little did I know I was really one of those fools.

Also, when I was a junior in high school I took a Psychology course. Most people took the class as an easy A. Me, of course, as studious as I am took it because I was genuinely interested. We learned about Maslows Hierarchy (I apologize if I totally destroyed the technical name). If I recall correctly there are three basic needs people need, security and shelter, socialization, and food and water. The first few days at post totally compromised these basic needs for me, which I have never really had to legitimately worry about.

I felt secure and I had shelter, but it wasn’t what I was used to, and therefore I felt my guard was up more than usual. I don’t think I have ever really known the value I placed on furniture, and how much those material things really were a part of my life. It is easy to think you don’t value material items, until you don’t have them.

I have such a close knit circle at home, that my social situation has been compromised since I have been here. On a regular basis I am reminded of how I could not really go on very well in life without my family and friends from back home. I also acknowledge that as much as I try, I will never truly know what it is like to be Beninese. As for food and water, the market here is once a week, and cooking here isn’t like cooking in the states. I was worried I would never find enough to eat, and the next two years might be spent not feeling full.

In my moment of despair I texted my friends in the states are secret emergency code. Even with a five hour time difference, both of them managed to get a hold of me. One of the friends I have known since I was nine years old. She offered up many words, but one really stuck. “You have to look to the small successes.” After I got off the phone with her, I promptly dressed myself, and made myself go out and talk to as many as possible. My French is not good, but people appreciate the effort more than anything else. My day started to improve. That night the electrician came and checked my outlets, which worked, and fixed my power strip that had been broken. I also decided to make it my mission to find food. I often heard volunteers talk about the people in their concession feeding them, and so this is what I have done. I have adopted myself to the family next to me. It is a lady and her daughters. She feeds me a lot and often, and has even said she is making it her mission to make me fat. A few days later I bought a table and a chair, and the carpenter finished my screen door, and my frame for my twin size bed.

Now I am reading “Life of Pi,” which has been the best read so far, since I have been in country. The author frequently repeats how humans can get to use to anything after a while. Everyday I find that to be more and more true. Perhaps, I can do this afterall.