A letter to a new VSO volunteer Pt.2

You can find part one here.  (Part one covered the practical stuff – this is the touchy feely bit).

Dear new VSO volunteer,

In my two VSO posts I feel like I have witnessed the highest highs and the lowest lows of volunteer life.

The highest…hitching a lift on the back of a motorbike in Hanoi, following the ridiculous urge to hold my arms out, arching my back and letting the smell of autumn blossom fill my lungs.

The smell somehow further boosting my euphoria.

Whizzing around Hanoi was often when I felt happiest. I could see it all fly by me – the markets, the chaos, the colour, the people.

I could further remove myself from it and see me – right in the middle of it all – on that bike. Living a life that after a dozen years in an office, I really thought belonged to other people.

To be able to have that thought – this is me doing this. Me.

In no time you’re no longer the newbie. New volunteers arrive and you’re showing them how to get around, how to haggle, where to eat, where to buy what you need.

And the “this is me”, never far away.

I suspect most people like me had a life plan already mapped out – it’s not something we made a conscious decision to do, but school, work, marriage retirement, all in the one country, was what we expected.

Those people who did volunteer work overseas were the stuff of local papers. Local boy in Asia.

The word I use most is “lucky”. I seemed lucky. Lucky because the existence of VSO meant I could be there and hopefully I could help. Heartbreakingly lucky because I had been born somewhere affluent and developed and I’d never have to deal with the problems that the kids I worked with had. I even felt lucky to feel lucky – if I hadn’t seen this for myself then I might have known just how blessed my life is.

And the lows – in both Vietnam and Cameroon it’s hard watching the efforts of local people being undermined by corruption.

It’s hard to witness the rights that we take for granted not being there without money to grease the wheels.

In Hanoi I never wanted for a social life. It was a double edged though – I also felt suffocated by that expat village. I also felt uneasy with the walled-compound and SUV crowd when I worked during the day with people who had so little.

But even in Hanoi it was still easy to feel lonely at times. It took me a while to recognise it but not having easy access to “home” can be harder to deal with than you think. On the occasions when life was tough it was hard to escape. It was hard sometimes just to find support and reassurance.

Cameroon, in that respect, is harder still. Ten hours to the nearest airport – only a handful of other volunteers in town – it’s hard not to feel that the rest of the world is a long way away.

I’ve had evenings that have gone on forever. I’ve had hours where I’ve willed my phone to bleep. I’ve switched on my laptop and been genuinely depressed to find no emails and nobody online.

Other times the electricity has been off from the time I woke up on a Sunday and the day has unfolded in front of me with seemingly nothing and no one to fill it. Boredom and loneliness together are the worst.

But, as with Vietnam, I never stopped feeling lucky. Even lucky that I had this experience – even if it hasn’t all been positive. Lucky that, as hard as it gets here, it will make future plans and future experiences seem so much easier.

Lucky that I have seen for myself , in a very small way, how people live in one of the poorest countries in the world. Lucky that I’ve met people for whom this isn’t context or an experience – this is life and they are coping with it the best they can.

VSO as a rites of passage? Absolutely.

I strongly believe that if you can do it – then you should.

Good luck.

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Tags: advice, letter, volunteer, vsso

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