A volunteer's remuneration

"You're going to work for a year and not get paid for it?" asked my Grandma before I left for India, surprised that anyone would contemplate such a thing. Police officials, when interrogating you to decide whether they should extend your visa ask the same question "And you receive no salary?" "Yes", say I, the innocent do-gooder stupid enough to work for free.

You see, for me, my short professional life has never been about the money. It has been about making a difference, working for organisations I believed in, doing a job I enjoyed. I've always been happy to volunteer in the evenings and on the weekends.

No one becomes a VSO volunteer to get rich. VSO pay most of your expenses, give you an allowance and sort out your accommodation up to certain budget, but the idea is you don't make money from your VSO placement, but neither do you lose money. In reality, if you want to go on holidays or weekends away, you've got to use your savings. My allowance is 10,000 rupees a month, or £140, but compared to Indian colleagues that's a fair wage, and ours doesn't have to be spent on accommodation and supporting a family. We're lucky really.

So, our remuneration doesn't arrive in our bank accounts at the end of each month. It's etched on our memories, engrained in our future lives. Experiences so alien to life back home that they will shape our thinking for years to come. I've gained a whole new family- parents, uncles, aunties, brothers, sisters and cousins who have taken me in as one of their own and taught me how to live as a Rajput young lady. After just 4.5 months at my NGO I've got more confidence professionally and have learnt about so many development issues and how they affect local people- climate change, child marriage, sanitation, child labour, conservation. Personally I've grown stronger and more sure of myself and I'm left with a sense of satisfaction that I am using my efforts, no matter how small, to help.

Last Sunday after a staff function I was left feeling honoured that I could serve the rural communities in Rajasthan. I'd completed some work for GVNML- a new logo, a slogan (Nurturing sustainable rural change), the launch of our new website, which I wrote, and the printing of our latest annual report, and we were celebrating. The aim of the communications work is to increase GVNML's visibility so that we can spread their initiatives to other needy areas and generate more funding.
I wasn't sure what to expect at the 'logo party', and when I arrived there were 40 members of full time staff from 3 districts sitting opposite a cloth covered board. After senior staff explained the background of the logo change, six of us were invited to stand by the board and together took away the cloth, revealing the logo decorated with flowers. The annual report was wrapped up like a present and unwrapped one of the NGO founders while everyone clapped. I was invited to light a candle to celebrate. I only caught the odd word of the speeches that followed, but there was a lot of dhanyavads, or thank yous to Isabel, combined with clapping. My own unplanned speech didn't come out quite as expected, just a simple few words saying how pleased I was to be here and able to be of service. Work often progresses slowly in India, which makes it even more satisfying when it does get finished. And that warm fuzzy feeling, that's my remuneration.

Photo: GVNML staff by their new logo; the finished masterpiece; me lighting the candle in traditional Rajasthani dress.