There’s a deeply unsettling feeling that comes from not knowing where your donation really goes. In Iran, there is little to no independent oversight of charities. Sure, you might be shown a child’s medical file, but who’s to say how much money has already been raised using that same file—or how those funds are actually being spent? Over time, I’ve become more cautious. Some charities own luxurious real estate under their name—multi-billion toman buildings that seem completely disconnected from the everyday struggles of the people they claim to help. And I can’t help but ask: What good is a luxury home for them, helping someone who can’t afford their next meal or medication? Recently, I received a call from a children's charity. A woman on the line mentioned the name of a newborn and offered to send me their medical documents. I tried to politely excuse myself by saying I was already working with another organization. She pressed on—”Even 50 or 100 thousand tomans could really help.” I declined. I didn’t trust the organization. But afterward, I felt awful. Really awful. Because I didn’t give the money and because of the guilt, the possible emotional manipulation, and the deeper discomfort of not knowing if what I gave would actually make a difference. That moment pushed me to take a step I’d been considering for a while: to look for Iranian charities that are subject to international audits and transparent standards, not just local approvals. Eventually, I narrowed it down to two: Mahak, and Nikan Mammut. While Mahak is well-known and specialized, I was drawn to the broader scope and smaller scale of Nikan Mammut. I made a donation from income I had already set aside, and decided that going forward, I would give 1% of my income to them whenever it reached a threshold. But it didn’t stop there. The idea of contributing as a volunteer life coach came to me naturally. I’m currently finishing up my certification in Life Coaching and Solution-Focused Coaching with the Universal Coach Institute. I filled out their volunteer form and offered my support—not financial this time, but emotional and transformational, for those who might be ready for it. If they respond, that’s wonderful. If not, I know I’ve done my part.
The Little Popcorn.