Arriving at the office we started with a familiar greeting of old friends in the VSO office glad to see me back safely. Then a tussle with the internet where I tried to email a document to my counterpart having had the very busy week back at work familiar to all those who've recently holidayed. I lost. However I did win in terms of getting a nice coffee and a couple of books from the library which, whilst less professional and world changing, is actually more fun.
The workshop was scheduled to last the morning. It began with a VSO video, several ex-volunteer talking heads on what leaving was like. VSO loves a talking heads video; we'd seen a lot in our pre-placement -training. There's a man who lived in hearing distance of roaring lions in most of them, so it was strange not to see him in this one. However we heard about having not enough time for the paperwork, considered opinions on leaving parties and listened to tales of resettling at home. Then we discussed the practical steps needed (quite a lot of forms and meetings, so there's a record of what happened) and raised concerns, most of which were about sustainability of our work. We also covered what we'd miss, which seems to be the children greeting and dancing with us, the responsibility at work, the camaraderie of the volunteer corps and, for some, the weather. Unsurprisingly the limited choice of beer and food or milk powder didn't feature.
The discussion about our impact as volunteers was more fraught. To be a VSO is to be a catalyst in a society, creating changes. When a stone is thrown into a lake the ripples spread out from the point it entered, stirring even stagnant water. The effects become wider but more shallow the future away from the volunteer they are. It's the image of a VSO. But how does it feel to be the stone? You splash into the water but quickly hit the bottom, unaware of the ripples left above, the oxygen mixed through the liquid as you passed briefly through. A programme planned to change a system takes time. It's a slow process and can take thirty years with a different volunteer each year. We are like these stones. And as people who, as the old cliche would have it, want to change the world, feeling that you had a small impact is often not enough. You created a ripple, but you wanted the whole nature of the pool to alter to your vision. Of course that's the point of the model, it's not your vision, it's the people of the country who just call on your expertise for a short while to achieve their own aims. But even knowing all that, it's not easy.
Although I still feel new I decided to use the opportunity as intended; to actually reflect on leaving and how I'll feel. I was surprised that I am pretty emotional about it. But I am. I have friends here who, after I go, I am unlikely to ever see or hear of again. Yet now I see them everyday. They visit when I'm sick, call just to greet me (and I'm really bad at rendering to return that favour), laugh at me dancing, and send wishes of love to my family in the UK. I will never know what grades Mam Jarra gets, whether Marie Louise gains another godchild, if Sena's building business grows, if Paulina and Nicolas have another baby, won't go to Katy's wedding. And I know where and how they live and that outcomes are not always good.
And so, there were lots of questions I asked myself, about leaving well and about what next in terms of work and life. By the end of the workshop I had a fully expanding mind map, thought provoking ideas surrounded by clouds, plans in the future linked to actions I can take now. But the biggest realisation was that I often hang back from joining in or engaging with people here, scared of causing offence or becoming embroiled in a situation I don't really understand and therefore can't control. I worry that I'll hurt people when I leave if we spend to much time together. But perhaps the opposite is true. This is the one moment in the history of all space and time that I have with these people. At the bottom of the mind map I wrote "your time here is short. Use it well.". I hope I do.
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