It all began with a tiny jumble sale 30 years ago. Now Concern is ainternational charitable business employing thousands of people in thedeveloping world. Christina O'Rourke reports.

The staging of a tiny jumble sale in a Northumberland Road house in Dublin was a humble beginning for the multi-million-euro, international charity Concern. But the core values behind today's television ad campaigns fronted by glamorous pop-stars are the same as those rooted in the "hands-on" campaigning that began with Africa Concern over 30 years ago, says Concern's chief executive Tom Arnold.

Targeting corporate sectors and other "big donors" has transformed the traditional methods of charity fundraising that Concern began with in the late 1960s. Despite this, it is public donations, a lot of it still "purse money", that continue to make up more than 50 per cent of Concern's income.

Concern now operates in 30 countries worldwide. "The organisation has become professionalised but we must never lose sight of the magnitude of every small donation," he says. Public donations reached an all-time high of €33 million last year.

Personal links between missionaries and Concern volunteers continue to play a key role in the successful distribution of food and aid in the developing world. The grass-roots nature of the volunteers' fieldwork, is currently being demonstrated in Southern Africa, according to Arnold.

"In places like Malawi and Zimbabwe, it was the missionaries, a lot of whom were Irish, that led us to the poorest people. They are very closely rooted in the community."

The non-denominational status of Concern can never be overstated, says Arnold, adding that one of the organisation's great strengths over time has proven to be the mixed faiths of its components. It is purely coincidental, he says, that a number of the founders and later key figures were religious people.

Despite an initial difficulty in attracting Protestant recruits, the establishment of a Northern Ireland office is one of Concern's success stories, according to Arnold. Initially, the non-denominational concept was hard to swallow for some in the North; they simply saw a Dublin-based agency, led by Father Aengus Finucane. "We are very conscious now of our cross-community support in Northern Ireland," he says.

Circumstances have also changed over the years for volunteers. Particularly since September 11th, security guidelines have been altered. But the 1990s also saw a range of dangerous regions, such as in Somalia and Rwanda, opened up to Concern volunteers. And the risks were immense. Valerie Place, a nurse from St James's Hospital, Dublin, was killed in Somalia in 1994.

Concern's long-term development programmes now recruit large numbers of national staff. In the early 1970s, the majority of its workers were Irish volunteers travelling abroad because there were not enough local people with the education to function in a professional capacity, such as engineers and nurses. "Now, in Bangladesh, we employ 1,200 nationals and seven expatriates," says Arnold.

Another big change in the field is the movement of volunteers across borders. "It is a growing trend for the volunteers to move on to another area and face new challenges. That type of movement would not have been possible 20 years ago."

As Concern evolved into a sophisticated charity organisation, its donors also matured, presenting new demands and conditions. Nearly half of Concern's income comes from international governments and co-funding agencies, which look for accountability and guidelines on what exactly they fund. "It is a very stable part our fund income," says Arnold.

Rather than simply making public appeals when there is an emergency, Concern now strives to keep a steady flow of public funds for more long-term development plans in the various regions. About 140,000 people in Ireland have subscribed to this method of standing-order donation.

A financial disaster in the 1980s was a "wake-up call" for the organisation, according to Arnold. Alex Tarbett, who was appointed as Concern's executive director in 1977, seemingly stabilised the organisation's books and made it more "business-like". But then it was discovered that Tarbett had cheated the charity out of £360,000.

"We drew some good out of it and became more vigilant, after paying the money back," says Arnold. Public support was won back through the appointment of Father Aengus Finucane, a long-standing and trusted figure in the organisation. "He was very well known and people trusted him,", says Arnold. Concern has since won the Leinster Society of Chartered Accountants annual award for Best Accounts in the Charity Sector eight times.

Since establishing Concern in the US in 1994, corporate America and Irish Americans have been significant donors, generating up to $7 million annually. "But for Concern, it is still the small people that really matter," says Arnold. Adorning the walls of Concern Headquarters in Dublin's Camden Street are letters from children that enclosed donations of up to €5. One letter reads, "Hi Concern, I have gave you this money. I hope you have good use for it. You can buy anything you want. I got the money for my Communion. I hope you are pleased with the money."

Pointing to the long list of Irish Concern volunteers over its 30-year history, Arnold stresses the importance of a people's network. "It is these people that keep the funds flowing; they come back, connect with others and tell their stories. That's where the money comes from."

Believing in Action: Concern 1968-1998, by Tony Farmar, is published by A&A Farmar, Dublin, price €14.99; €3 from the sale of each book goes to the Concern charity