When I first dipped my toes into the world of philanthropy, I quickly realized there was much more to it than I had initially imagined. Last year, for example, I attended a seminar about Malaria prevention. I went in expecting charts, statistics, and maybe a few case studies—but instead, I was moved by the passion of the experts, each deeply committed to finding real, practical solutions. Their energy was infectious, and I was pleasantly surprised.
I left the seminar feeling inspired—but also a little overwhelmed. Overwhelmed, in the first place, because the deeper I tried to understand the disease, the more it seemed like every cause was tied to something else, like billiard balls striking one another in an endless chain of collisions. The challenges in the world are vast, and trying to remove the obstacles that hold children back felt a lot like trying to untangle a never-ending knot—there were no easy answers.
Take, for example, children’s health in remote communities. It’s not uncommon for new clinics to be built with the hope of expanding access to care. Building a clinic might seem like a clear solution, but the reality is complex. Families struggle to reach care because roads are in poor condition, especially during the rainy season when transportation is often limited. Even when they do manage to get there, clinics are sometimes understaffed or lack the necessary equipment, which means children might go without vaccinations, treatment for infections, or even basic checkups.
There are also the less visible but equally important barriers—like language differences, deep-rooted cultural beliefs, or past experiences that have left families uncertain about whether they can trust the care being offered.
It’s in cases like these that I’ve realized how important it is to look beyond surface-level solutions. Real change takes listening, understanding, and working alongside communities to address not just one issue—but the whole context around it.
Take for example children’s health in remote areas—new clinics are built, but poor roads, lack of trained staff, and cultural barriers constantly hinder progress.
Another example is someone like Blandine—a community health worker who walks for hours between villages every single day, carrying life-saving vaccines to take care of other people’s health. But vaccines, I learned, can lose their effectiveness within four hours if not properly refrigerated. So by the time she reaches the next village, the very medicine she carries might no longer be viable.
As you can see, a successful operation is not just about having the right vaccine—it’s also about how it’s delivered and used. Implementation matters just as much.
In other words, if a small change in one area can set off big, sometimes unexpected shifts elsewhere, then where do we even start? But the ripple effect can go either way—bringing tough challenges, or opening the door to something surprisingly good.
For example, a donation to an education program might improve access to schooling, which in turn could lead to higher graduation rates, more people entering the workforce, and eventually improving the economy.
But those improvements could also influence other sectors, like healthcare (more educated people tend to have better health outcomes), or social justice (education can empower individuals to advocate for themselves and others). The interconnectedness of philanthropy shows how efforts to address one problem can also contribute to solving many others, often in ways that aren’t immediately obvious.
It’s like touching one string on a web and seeing ripples spread through the whole structure. But that complexity is also exactly what excites me about it. I love digging into complicated problems, peeling back the layers, and trying to find solutions that could create ripple effects.
It’s also worth noting that some philanthropists intentionally look at the bigger picture, choosing to tackle root causes instead of just symptoms. This approach is about considering how different issues—poverty, education, healthcare, and social inequality—are all related and how addressing one can lead to positive effects across the board.
So over time, I came to realize that making a meaningful impact—even in just one area—requires patience, sustained effort, collaboration, and a constant willingness to learn. I also quickly learned that to truly commit to this kind of work, it made sense to begin with a cause that deeply resonated with me. Supporting children felt like a natural starting point — a cause I couldn’t ignore and one that I felt personally connected to.
Because I just love kids. I love the way they think, I love the way they move through the world with infectious curiosity. I love how they don’t seem to care about what others think is appropriate or not. When I was that age, I had a lot of things going on—-so-called first-world problems on a micro-scale. I once cut the hair of my favorite Barbie to give her a different haircut and changed her hair color from blonde to red by using my vilt stifts. The result was disappointing.
But children are also deeply affected by the decisions made by adults. In today’s world, marked by political divisions and conflicts, this impact is especially devastating to witness. And one of the things that honestly surprised me since I got more into this, is how preventable the harmful situations that children find themselves in around the world are. The fact that malaria still exists, that a substantial percentage of children across the world don’t have a proper toilet to use, or that there are still children going to school without having a proper breakfast, is just unfathomable to me.
If philanthropy is about creating ripple effects instead of fixing symptoms, then maybe we can focus on identifying the root causes we can’t ignore—the ones we deeply care about, and do something about them. At the Swart Foundation we are growing a small but loyal tribe of readers who’ll support our mission when funding begins. I’m hopeful that we’re able to help, even in a small way, to remove some of the obstacles that prevent children from having a meaningful, safe, and healthy life.
On top of that, for every book you purchase through my blog, I earn a small commission. From that, I donate 10% to the Malala Fund — just a small, simple act to support girls everywhere in getting the education they deserve.
Here is a list of the last 3 personal letters I’ve sent:
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To learn more about Swart Foundation and our mission, visit www.swartfoundation.org
