On Thursday 30th January 2025, two of us, Lorraine and Ada, attended a meet-and-greet session at the SADACCA daycare centre in Sheffield. SADACCA (Sheffield and District African Caribbean Community Association) is a Black African and Caribbean organisation which was set up in 1986. The organisation is dedicated to meeting the health needs of the African and Caribbean communities. The organisation “acts as an anchor organisation serving the needs of the communities in the Riverside and Wicker as a bridge between the heart of the city.” For more information, see https://sadacca.co.uk/
We were there to connect with members of the African Caribbean community, share our research on COPD and pulmonary rehabilitation, and learn from their lived experiences. For all of us, our experiences were shaped by our backgrounds and unique perspectives. Here’s a reflection on the day from both of us as we came together to listen, share, and learn.
Lorraine: The cold Sheffield air brushed my cheeks as I left the train station and made my way to SADACCA. The day felt important. I was attending a community engagement session to connect with Black African and Caribbean elders, and to talk to them about Chronic Obstructive Pulmonary Disease (COPD) and Pulmonary Rehabilitation (PR), a transformative treatment including exercise and information.
The warmth inside the building was immediately welcoming, with the scent of home cooking in the air, reggae music protruding through the speakers, all of which were comforting and spoke of home and community. I saw faces etched with stories and faces that held the wisdom of generations.
This feeling reminded me of being a child, and in particular, Sunday mornings. The smell of spices familiar to me, and food which had been marinated for hours with an abundance of spice - and cooked with love. This was the smell of home, which transported me back to being sat at the dining table, where mountains of Caribbean food was served, where family would gather, and loud conversations and boisterous laughter would fill the room.
Ada: As a Nigerian woman stepping into the heart of an African-Caribbean community in Sheffield, I couldn’t help but feel a little bit like an outsider. Sure, we shared the same skin tone, and my colleague, Lorraine, was there with me, but the nuances of culture and experience between our two communities were quite different. Nevertheless, I knew this wasn’t just about the research—it was about real people, real stories, and meaningful conversations. And what an enriching, unexpected experience it turned out to be.
Lorraine and I were at the Day Care Centre for what was supposed to be a quick meet-and-greet session—an hour and a half at most. However, I didn’t anticipate that the day would extend to almost four hours, leaving me with a heart full of insights, a head buzzing with new perspectives, and a strong sense of belonging despite initially feeling out of place.
Lorraine: As someone who is passionate about health equity, I knew that this community engagement session was more than just delivering information: it was about building trust and understanding, with a community underserved by research and health services, and facing unique challenges.
As we worked the room, Ada (my colleague) and I spoke to an elderly man who shared his personal experience with COPD, the difficulties with breathing, challenges with the healthcare system, and the impact on his daily life. We rarely hear these stories because there is so little published literature on the experiences of African and Caribbean people with COPD.
We moved on to another table where we sat with a group of men who were a bit dubious at first but warmly welcomed us, sharing laughter and insights about the challenges and joys of aging in Sheffield. I heard of the loss of a community that once welcomed people and how this has changed. Some of the elders who once attended the centre have since passed on. Maintaining cultural traditions can sometimes feel like a losing battle when faced with the tide of modern-day life.
Ada: I, too, felt the gentlemen were a lively, energetic bunch, eagerly sharing their stories, their cultures?, and their thoughts on everything from dominoes to the Notting Hill Carnival. And oh, how they spoke about Carnival—this celebration of life, music, and unity. They described the vibrancy, the rhythm, and the pulse of the event, but there was a tinge of sadness when they talked about how some British people didn’t quite understand the essence of it. They’d smile and laugh, but you could tell there was a deeper story they weren’t always ready to tell.
We talked about health too, which, of course, was the real reason we were there. Some of them had never smoked, while others talked about how they avoided the doctor at all costs. But there was one topic that I couldn’t quite crack—what would make them go to the doctor? Or, in our case, a PR session? The answer eluded us despite my best efforts to dig deeper. Perhaps it’s the trust issue or the fear of being dismissed—something that I, as an African woman, could relate to. But for all the conversations, I still didn’t get that one golden answer.
Lorraine: I learned about the importance of taking care of yourself, and the importance of faith, family and community. For many Black elders, their faith is an integral part of their culture and traditions. Practising their Christian faith helps them maintain their cultural identity and to remain connected to their roots. One of the elders mentioned that his faith is a powerful coping mechanism which helps when his health causes him stress, and during times of adversity and loss. For this elder, faith provides a sense of comfort, hope and resilience.
Having these discussions underscored the importance of community engagement and of creating a safe space for sharing, learning, and building trust. It became clear that cultural sensitivity wasn’t just about language but about understanding the lived experiences, the cultural beliefs, and the historical context that shapes health outcomes.
The SADACCA centre is a vibrant hub for Black elders, full of vitality and life, but amidst this lively venue, a more subtle thread weaves its presence, and a sense of unease arises when it comes to the conversation of researchers. For many of the elders, the arrival of so-called ‘outsiders’ brings a cautious optimism. A hope that their experiences, which are often marginalised, will be heard and valued. These elders have often opened their doors, their lives, and their memories to unfamiliar faces armed with whiteboards and presentations. The conversations with the elders reveal a complex mix of sentiments long after the researchers have packed up their belongings, armed with the data they need. A recurring theme is the longing for genuine engagement beyond data collection, as too often, the elders have felt like subjects, not partners, in a research process that seems beneficial primarily to the researchers themselves. As one person remarked, “They come, they ask, they write, they disturb our domino play, then we hear nothing.”
Ada: I felt that one of the younger men in the group (65 years) shared something quite profound: "Researchers come here all the time," he said with a knowing grin. "They talk to us about their research, but by the end of it, most of the older gentlemen are either asleep or thinking about the lunch we’re about to have.” He continued by saying that he always wonders whether those researchers feel they truly connect with the people they’re studying. “I’m sure they leave wondering if they got their point across,” he said." He paused for effect before adding, "But you, you guys came and spent time with us. You talked with us, not at us."
His words hit home in a way I wasn’t prepared for. In that moment, I realised how important my coming there that day was and how much of our work on this project (UPTURN) is tied to making these connections. We hadn’t just gone there to “collect data” or “ask questions.” We had gone to connect. I had gone to learn, and in doing so, I had respected them as people, not just participants in our research. It was a reminder that we, as researchers, often forget: It’s not just about what we ask—it’s about how we listen.
This was the moment I started to feel like an insider, not because of the shared blackness but because of the shared respect. The respect for who they were, what they had lived through, and what they had to teach me. And yet, even with the camaraderie, there was always that subtle distance—a line between them and me that no amount of skin colour could erase. But somehow, it felt okay. I didn’t need to be them to understand them, and they didn’t need to be me to open up to me. It was enough that we were there together, having that moment in time.
Four hours flew by in what felt like the blink of an eye. As we packed up to leave, I felt like I’d earned something that no survey or interview guide could give me: a glimpse into lives lived in full colour and a deeper understanding of the people I was there to serve.
Lorraine: As the day ended, I felt a sense of profound respect and gratitude. I was grateful for the opportunity to witness the strength and resilience of this community and for the dedication of the organiser who made our day possible. These community spaces are so important as they often play a vital role in fostering social cohesion, advocating for equality, reducing isolation, and preserving cultural heritage.
Ada: I walked away that day with my heart fuller, my curiosity more piqued, and my respect for the Caribbean community in Sheffield profoundly deepened. Sure, I didn’t get the answers I thought I was going to get—but I got so much more. And for that, I am grateful.
Lorraine: The journey back was different. The Sheffield air was still cold, but I didn’t notice it as much. My mind was packed with the stories that I had heard and the lessons I’d learnt. It was a day that touched my heart. I had learnt so much more about the true meaning of community engagement, and I looked forward to returning.
Authors:
Dr. Ada Achinanya, Research Associate (UPTURN)
Department of Health Science,
University of York
Lorraine Lawrence, Community Researcher (UPTURN)
Department of Health Science,
University of York