Belonging on Uncertain Ground

Starting a new role in a new country often comes with a mix of excitement, relief, and hope. For many people in intercultural contexts, work is not only about employment, it is also about belonging, connection, and building a place for oneself in a new environment.
 
In this blog, our colleague Maria reflects on the experience of working in temporary roles and the quiet uncertainty that can come with them. Through her perspective, she highlights what it means to contribute, to feel part of a team, and to understand the in-between space of not knowing what comes next. Her reflection speaks to many who have worked in short-term positions, especially within the NGO and community sector, and reminds us that even temporary roles can have lasting impact.

​For many people who arrive in a new country, the first job feels like a small miracle. A contract. Even a short one. Keys to an office. A name on an email account. Access to shared folders, internal systems, meeting invitations. Colleagues who greet you in the morning and ask how you are.
 
Suddenly, you are not only “new” here. You are part of something. There is gratitude in that moment. And relief. But also, enthusiasm — the kind that comes from being seen, from being trusted, from being given a chance to contribute. Many of us step into these roles with a strong desire to offer our best: to prove ourselves, to bring ideas, to support others, to create something meaningful together. We learn quickly. We take initiative. We bring creativity and energy.

​And slowly, something important happens: we begin to feel part of a team. We attend meetings. We share coffee and lunch breaks. We celebrate small successes. We learn the rhythms of the organisation and the people within it. The work becomes more than a task. It becomes a place where we belong, at least for now. This sense of belonging matters deeply. Especially when you are building a life in a new country.
 
But alongside the enthusiasm, another feeling sometimes grows quietly in the background. Time moves. Contracts approach their end dates. Conversations about the future remain unclear. We continue working with the same dedication, yet uncertainty slowly becomes part of the atmosphere. Nothing dramatic happens. It is more subtle than that. Tasks shift. Responsibilities are redistributed. New people arrive. Systems continue moving forward — as they must. Organisations evolve, adapt, respond to funding cycles and project timelines. This is part of the reality of many NGOs and community organisations, where flexibility is necessary and resources are often temporary.

​Still, for those of us in short-term roles, this reality can feel personal. We have invested not only our time but also a part of ourselves. We have built relationships, contributed ideas, supported participants, and helped carry projects forward. Even while knowing that our presence might be limited, we show up fully. We give our energy and creativity. We want to be useful, to be trusted, to leave something positive behind. 

And sometimes, as the end of a contract approaches without clear continuation, a quiet question emerges: What remains of the work we have done? What remains of us?

It can be difficult and sad to say goodbye to people all the time. To colleagues, interns, work try-outs… and sometimes to our own role. Temporary structures can sometimes make people feel temporary too. Many people in the NGO field recognise this in-between space. It is not always spoken about, yet it is widely shared: the experience of building something meaningful while standing on uncertain ground. Of feeling part of a team and, at the same time, preparing internally for the possibility of leaving it.

It is not always spoken about, yet it is widely shared: the experience of building something meaningful while standing on uncertain ground. Of feeling part of a team and, at the same time, preparing internally for the possibility if leaving it.

And still, there is something valuable in it. Temporary roles do not mean temporary impact. People who pass through organisations often carry a great deal with them — and leave a great deal behind. Skills are shared. Projects are built. Relationships are formed. Moments of support, creativity and connection accumulate. Even when contracts end, these traces remain in the community. Perhaps this is one of the quiet strengths of organisations like ours: they are built not only by long-term staff but also by the many people who contribute for a season. Each person brings something unique. Each person shapes the atmosphere, even if only for a while. The challenge is to hold both truths at once: to acknowledge the uncertainty that can accompany temporary work, and at the same time to recognise the value and dignity of the contributions made within it.

​Many of us continue to arrive with enthusiasm. We continue to offer our ideas, our skills, our care, our time. We continue to build, even when we do not know how long we will stay. Because belonging, contribution and community are not measured only in years or contracts. Sometimes they are measured in moments, in shared efforts, in the small but real ways we support one another.
 
And perhaps that is something we can hold onto: that even temporary roles can leave lasting marks — on organisations, on communities, and on ourselves.

Written by: maria zacharopoulu