Advice from five organization leaders on getting started, setting goals and what they’d do differently a second time around

Nonprofit organizations are the culmination of passion and practicality. While some may choose to join an organization or volunteer to do whatever they can, others want to forge their own way and found a new nonprofit for their chosen cause.

But what are the challenges of starting one? And does the world need another organization fighting [insert crisis here]?

In this series of articles, you’ll hear from people who either joined an organization or founded a new one. Each offers a behind-the-scenes perspective on what they’ve learned, what keeps them going and their hopes for a new generation of advocates.

These nonprofit leaders are answering Christ’s call to care for the least of these—and they’ll explain how others can, too.

Sometimes a person stumbles into fate—and other times fate stumbles into them. In Roger Sandberg’s case, fate came in the form of a couple Medair staffers who, he says,  “seemingly stumbled out of the jungle” while he was working for another nonprofit in the Congo. Several years after joining the faith-based disaster relief organization, he became their first U.S. national director and is now the country director in Haiti. Here, he talks about the importance of caring for individuals and combining service with the Gospel.

What were your thoughts on disaster relief before joining Medair?

I thought anyone could do it and it just took common sense. I quickly learned that good intentions could have negative effects. Common sense is needed, but so is a humble spirit that is willing to learn from others and to listen to beneficiaries. I believe it is our job to let their voices be heard. My favorite painting is Edvard Munch’s The Scream. I have a copy at home and at the office. You can see and feel the anguish in the painting. I have felt and seen that—I want the scream to be heard.

Who has taught you the most?

I have learned the most by sitting down and talking with beneficiaries. It is amazing how many times in disasters and conflicts we rush and do what we think is needed, where we should be quick to act after we talk to the beneficiary. In the first days [after the Haiti earthquake], the World Food Programme said food was the biggest need and any program should be a food-for-work program (i.e., people remove rubble from their plots and are “paid” with a certain food ration). The mayor’s office said the people would only work for money. I walked the streets and saw people sorting and sifting through rubble in shorts and flip-flops, trying hard to salvage any of their possessions. I talked with them and asked what they wanted and needed. They asked for tools to assist in rubble removal and some expertise and knowledge in proper and safe demolition. The next day we showed up with gloves, shovels, wheel-barrows, pick-axes and a truck to haul the rubble away (which we used to fill in potholes in the roads) and an engineer to provide safe demolition expertise. Money and food were not asked for in those first days. Listening goes a long way. Those in need still have a voice.

What unique pressures do you face as a director of a relief organization, particularly one that helps victims of unjust war?

As a country director of a relief organization, you are constantly on-call. There is the pressure of looking after the physical, mental and spiritual well-being of the team. There is the pressure of securing funding for projects which will employ sometimes hundreds of national staff and provide assistance to those in need. There are security concerns, whether it is being targeted directly, being in the wrong place at the wrong time, landmines, etc. There is the pressure of not becoming disheartened and losing hope where war continues to ravage the same people (south Sudan was in a 23-year-long civil war with the north). There can be times of great depression where you question if you are doing the right thing, if you are doing enough, if you are doing too much or if you should be doing anything.

When did you feel you’d discovered your reason for doing this work?

I had not been prepared for the suffering and for the injustice I encountered [in Sudan], How could I relate? I kept dwelling on that question and the answer soon came to me. I had been working on the primary health care clinic with some Sudanese men, and I had become friends with our Sudanese translator. On this particular day my translator, Diktor, asked me questions. Basic questions first, like how many cows I had or how many wives I had. But then Diktor asked me: “Why did you come here? We do not want to be here. Why are you here?” Wham! There it was, the door was open. I spent the rest of that lunch presenting the Gospel to Diktor and the rest of the men I was working with. Relief and development work had suddenly provided a way for me to build a relationship and a friendship with people and then be able to share the Gospel. As I spent more time with these men and learned about their culture, I learned how important storytelling was. They told so many sorts of stories and parables. They then asked me for some stories, [and] again the door was opened and I was able to tell them story after story and parable after parable from the Bible.

It was this aspect of relief work which has captivated me. Relief work allows and creates opportunities for the Gospel to be preached through our words and our actions. As we know, both are important and both are needed, and one should not and cannot replace the other. 

What are the problems you face when trying to make people in the U.S. care about natural disasters or conflict victims?

I feel as if the gap and the differences between us in the West (America specifically) and people in conflicts in Sudan, Somalia and natural disasters like the earthquake in Haiti is getting bigger. It is very hard to relate to a single mother in Sudan who has lost her husband to war, two children to starvation and a third who has lost an arm and a leg to a landmine. One has to learn to listen and empathize with the poor, even if they have never had similar experiences. Another huge hurdle is to not get lost in the numbers. Our goal in the southeast of Haiti was to construct 4,500 transitional shelters. It is easy to track that number and to try to create formulas that allow for 10 more to be constructed in a week. It is important to track how many have [been completed] and to know where shelter number 137 is located. But it is just as important to know who lives in shelter number 137.

What would you consider your “emergency kit”—literally and figuratively?

We use something called a run-bag. My run-bag contains three liters of water, passport, ID card, money, Leatherman, flashlight, medicines, basic first-aid kit, fishing line and hook, rope, mosquito net, phone (sometimes satellite phone, sometimes cell phone) and some other items. 

I need to draw on patience, flexibility, stamina and common sense. In the beginning of a rapid onset emergency, we work 18- to 20-hour days, week upon week. The needs are massive and the work that needs to be completed is absolutely huge. I need to make sure I am talking and coordinating with the local government, the U.N., other NGOs and government donors. 

What advice would you give someone who’s thinking about starting a nonprofit?

First, figure out what sector or area you are interested in. Second, get experience in that area by working with an organization already working in that area. While gaining experience, keep an ongoing list of what you like, what you don’t like, what could be done better. When you are nearing the end of your time with that organization, sit down with your lists and ask yourself, “If someone gave me a blank check, what would my organization look like?” Now that you know what your ideal is, search to see if an organization like that already exists. If it does, join them. If not, it might be time to start your own.