For more than two decades, I’ve worked at the intersection of crisis, community, and change. From the aftermath of the Haiti earthquake and Typhoon Haiyan in the Philippines, to nine months in conflict-torn South Sudan, to now over a decade living and working in the rural Eastern Cape of South Africa, I’ve seen the best and worst of how the humanitarian world tries to do good.

What these years have taught me is that the difference between lasting change and fleeting impact almost always comes down to intention. When people give or partner with sincerity, not for credit, not for image, but from a genuine desire to make things better, the work takes root. When they act out of convenience or ego, it doesn’t. The results may look impressive on paper, but they don’t endure in people’s lives.

These are some of the lessons I’ve learned the hard way. I share them in the hope that others might see through my eyes for a moment and learn from both my mistakes and the mistakes I’ve witnessed. It’s the cheapest, and perhaps the most honest, way to grow.

“For show” CSI does more harm than good. When the real goal is the selfie, not the story, it’s not giving, it’s taking credit.

Doing Good, Not Just Looking Good

The first and most important rule in partnership, whether you’re a donor, an NGO, or a company, is shared values. It’s easier to build something meaningful with people who share your motivations and integrity.

But shared values on paper aren’t enough. The real test is whether those values show up in practice. Do people act with transparency when things get uncomfortable? With humility when they don’t have the answers? With financial responsibility when no one is watching?

It’s easy to write “integrity” into a strategy document; it’s harder to live it.

I’ve seen organisations whose spending becomes so top-heavy that almost nothing reaches the people they aim to serve. The goal isn’t to starve organisations or their teams. It’s to find proportion and transparency: to use resources in a way that sustains the people doing the work while keeping the why and the cause always top of mind as the north star.

And to donors, please, don’t give if it’s only for publicity.

If your donation is only for the PR photo or the “big cheque” moment, but the money takes months (or never) to reach the beneficiary ... don’t give! The damage this causes is often invisible at first, but it’s real. Projects stall. Teams lose morale. Communities lose trust. You might move on to the next campaign, but the organisation and the people left behind have to pick up the pieces.

This kind of “for show” CSI does more harm than good. When the real goal is the selfie, not the story, the work becomes extractive, not generous. It’s not giving, it’s taking credit.

When I was a teenager, my father once asked me to hand him the newspaper. I tossed it toward him instead of getting up. He stood, picked it up, and told me:

“When you give, give with all your heart.”

I’ve never forgotten that.

That lesson applies far beyond family, it’s a philosophy for partnership and honest giving.

Impact is more than Numbers

Governments love numbers. Reports love numbers. But impact isn’t measured in statistics alone; it has to be balanced with the stories, relationships, and changes on the ground that don’t fit on a spreadsheet.

I’ve met organisations that claimed to teach “computer skills” in two-hour sessions to people who’d never touched a keyboard. They took photos, collected ID numbers, and wrote glowing reports saying they’d “trained thousands.”

But what actually changed? Nothing. The participants left no more confident or employable than before, only ticked off as “beneficiaries” to satisfy a report.

It’s not always dishonesty that drives this. Sometimes it’s pressure to please a donor, to show fast results, to prove worth in a world that confuses scale with success. But when we measure only numbers, we start designing for numbers. We build projects that look good on paper but do little to shift the deeper patterns of inequality or exclusion.

Instead of counting heads, ask what stories have changed:

• If you gave scholarships, how many students actually graduated?
• If you offered mentorship, how many found confidence, not just jobs?
• If you ran a workshop, did anyone truly learn, or just attend?

Real impact begins when we stop rushing to report and start listening to the why.

• Why are young people still unemployed?
• Why do rural students struggle to stay in school?
• Why do entrepreneurs need healing, not just business plans? 

Impact isn’t a number. It’s a ripple — and the truest ripples take time to appear. We’re not here for numbers. We’re here for people.

Overhead is not waste. It is not inefficiency. It is the infrastructure that allows the work to exist.

Overhead and Core Funding is not a Luxury

Another painful truth: no organisation can run on project funding alone.

Someone has to pay for the financial reports, audits, rent, electricity, internet, and yes, even coffee. These are not extras; they are the backbone of any organisation that functions with integrity and accountability. It is unreasonable to expect that a nonprofit can deliver consistent, high-quality impact without covering its basic operational needs.

Behind every project are nonprofit staff who work on the frontlines of society’s toughest challenges, poverty, inequality and violence, issues most people would rather not face. Despite their dedication, they are frequently underpaid and overstretched, carrying the emotional and logistical weight of change with little recognition. Donors celebrate outputs but often overlook the human cost of impact.

Overhead is not waste. It is not inefficiency. It is the infrastructure that allows the work to exist. A functioning printer, a reliable car, or a project manager’s salary do not dilute impact, they make impact possible. If we want meaningful and lasting change, we must start funding honesty, sustainability, and the people who make the work real.

Sustainable Impact is not a Rush Job

Some kinds of change can’t be rushed. Projects like beekeeping, agriculture or education take years before they become self-sustaining.

If you only fund for one year, you’re not just cutting a project short,you might be undoing the trust and momentum that were beginning to grow. Communities notice when we come and go. They remember when we leave. Every short-term “pilot” that vanishes teaches people not to believe the next promise.

Real change asks for patience. For partnership. For staying long enough to learn what doesn’t work, not just to celebrate what does.

If we want to see transformation, not just intervention, we have to be willing to stay in the story long after the photo, the launch, and the headlines are gone.

True partnership means listening when someone says, “We have a challenge,” and responding with, “Let’s fix it together.”

Partnership, Not Power Dynamics

The best partnerships are not built on control; they’re built on trust. The best donors are those who walk with us. Who talk openly and help solve problems side by side.

True partnership means listening when someone says, “We have a challenge,” and responding with, “Let’s fix it together.” It means showing up when things are messy, not only when they’re camera-ready.

The truth is, the power in our sector often sits with money. But impact flows from relationships. When decisions are made collaboratively, with honesty, mutual respect, and shared responsibility, everyone’s dignity stays intact, and the work becomes stronger.

Real partnership is slow, human, and heart-driven. It’s about walking alongside. That’s how we build trust. That’s how we make change that lasts.

Honesty Is Our Shared Reputation

Don’t paint false pictures. Don’t double-dip funding for the same project. If you receive funding twice by mistake, say so. Ask if you can expand to another community or reallocate the funds. Most donors will respect honesty far more than perfection.

I know the pressure to impress, the fear of losing a grant, the scramble to make numbers look good, the temptation to tell the story people want to hear. But every time we distort the truth, even a little, we erode something far bigger than one project. We weaken trust; and when one organisation falls, it casts a shadow over all of us.

We carry each other’s reputation. Our integrity is shared, and it’s the currency of the sector.

Honesty isn’t just compliance; it’s courage. It’s how we honour the people who trust us, the communities we serve, and the donors who believe in us. It’s not optional, it’s survival.

Final Thoughts

We’re at a turning point for the humanitarian and non-profit world, a moment to rebuild trust, to remember why we do this work, and to return to the heart of it all.

If you want to give, give with all your heart.
If you want to partner, do it with honesty and humility. If you want to create change, focus on people.

Our work is not about perfection, but about persistence.
It’s about staying curious, accountable, and kind in the face of complexity.
It’s about remembering that integrity isn’t a policy but a practice, renewed every day in the choices we make.

When we give with intention, when we walk with others instead of ahead of them, when we listen more than we speak, that’s when real impact begins.

Because every honest action, every sincere partnership, every story told with care becomes a ripple, and together, those ripples can form a big wave of change.

📷 Photo by Jakob Owens on Unsplash