Sunshine, Smiles, and Stories: A Lung Health Information Session at SADACCA

On Thursday, 27th March 2025, I (in collaboration with Sylvie, the Manager at SADACCA) organised and hosted a lung health information session at the SADACCA daycare centre in Sheffield. SADACCA (Sheffield and District African Caribbean Community Association) is a Black African and Caribbean organisation that 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/

Here’s my reflection of the day.

It was a sunny afternoon, the kind of gentle sunshine that nudges away worries and breathes warmth into your bones. At precisely 2pm, I arrived at the SADACCA daycare centre, a building that stood modest yet inviting, basking quietly in the sunlight. As I stepped from the street towards the entrance, uncertainty tugged lightly at my heart—an uncertainty borne out of wondering how the afternoon would unfold. But I decided, as always, to step forward with a smile despite the gentle limp and the rhythmic tapping of my walking stick against the pavement. I had sustained a foot fracture about a month ago but was determined not to let it stop me.

As I opened the door, a rush of warmth greeted me—not just from the indoor heating but from the faces inside. A group of older gentlemen sat clustered around tables, engrossed in lively discussions, cups of tea steaming gently in their hands, plates scattered with half-eaten cake and ice cream, the familiar comfort of afternoon treats. The welcoming gleam of recognition lit their faces as soon as I stepped through the doorway, their cheerful conversation pausing momentarily as concern and curiosity mingled in their gazes.

One of them smiled knowingly, glancing pointedly at my foot and walking stick. Another offered a warm nod of understanding as if to say, "You're among friends here." Their silent welcome softened any apprehension I had, and I moved forward with more confidence.

Across the room, I spotted Sylvie, my gracious host, whose eyes brightened upon seeing me. She approached, expressing genuine concern about my foot, her compassionate inquiries warming my heart. Sylvie shared with gentle honesty that not many had signed up specifically for the event. But ever resourceful, she encouraged me to visit the tables directly and speak with people face-to-face, even handing me contacts for nearby Caribbean churches to extend my reach further. She told me about chair exercises they had just finished, her voice lively with enthusiasm. "It's comfortable and inclusive," she said, "everyone cheers each other on. We want to ensure our community stays active and supported, especially before the big lunch”, she said with a knowing smile.

Sylvie then turned toward the group and warmly announced my presence, gently ushering me to take centre stage. I smiled broadly, took a breath, and announced I'd join them table by table. Approaching the nearest table, I immediately recognised a familiar face from a previous visit. His eyes sparkled with mischievous recognition.

"I remember you," he teased warmly, "but last time, you weren't as old!" His eyes lingered humorously on my walking stick, and laughter bubbled up around the table. "Now that's very Jamaican of me," he continued, chuckling, "because a white person probably wouldn't be so nosey!" We shared hearty laughter as I explained my broken foot, making light of the situation to reassure them—and perhaps myself—that I was indeed recovering well.

Introductions flowed effortlessly. I began by sharing that I was a researcher from the University of York, specifically focusing on lung health. Initially, five people, a thoughtful and attentive group of men and women aged probably between 50 and 70 years, joined this discussion—a smaller, more intimate gathering compared to the lively meet-and-greet I previously attended with my colleague Lorraine. A DAY AT SADACCA: Beyond Research and Into Connection

The conversation deepened quickly. Two men on the table revealed their own struggles with asthma, proudly presenting their Salbutamol inhalers. One gentleman leaned forward, eyes alight with memory, recounting his childhood days in Jamaica, vividly describing tobacco leaves and hot ashes wrapped around his small chest to ease his breathing. "Did it work?" I asked, captivated. He nodded slowly, reflecting on simpler times before modern medicine. Another chimed in, raising his inhaler triumphantly, "Now we've got this little thing—times have certainly changed."

The discussion gently drifted toward sleep apnoea. Stories unfolded with ease and honesty. One man's humorous yet poignant experiences of life with a CPAP machine prompted others to share anecdotes filled with laughter and empathetic nods. A lady curiously asked if sleep apnoea could indeed be cured, sharing a story of her sister who claimed that a new-found romance had miraculously resolved her condition. Humour filled the air again as one gentleman joked, "Well, it's tough being romantic with that big mask around your face every night! It’ll certainly dampen the mood". Warm laughter rippled through the table.

The engaging dialogue drew others from the far table, curiosity propelling them toward us. Soon, the group expanded, a circle of inquisitive faces eagerly absorbing information about COPD. As I explained our research goals, their attentive nods and thoughtful questions energised me. They asked perceptively about the differences between COPD and asthma, and I carefully unpacked these distinctions, aware of how meaningful this exchange was becoming. Some had heard about COPD before, but others hadn't.

A group of people sitting around the table

I circulated the flyers and booklets across the table, conversations blossoming beyond research topics into deeper personal connections. Then, one man’s eyes fell on my name, curiosity sparking recognition. He leaned forward, smiling broadly, "You're Nigerian—Igbo, right?" Our shared heritage lit up the conversation, drawing intrigued smiles from others. He proudly shared his decades-long journey as a chemist in Sheffield, highlighting his pioneering role in establishing clean air zones through grassroots community involvement. His voice swelled with quiet pride, recounting how distributing air pollution-detection canisters to locals had awakened a powerful community awareness of pollution within their environment. His words resonated profoundly, affirming the very heart of community research—engagement driven by trust, education, and mutual respect.

He invited me to speak about UPTURN at the local Igbo community’s monthly gathering, an offer that touched me deeply. Our interaction left me profoundly humbled and reminded me of the beautiful interconnectedness of culture, health, and identity.

As the afternoon faded, I gathered my things and exchanged final warm goodbyes. On the bus journey home, reflections gently crowded my mind, the day's stories and smiles merging with the fading sunlight. The warmth of genuine connections lingered powerfully. Today had been more than just community outreach—it had been about humanity, compassion, and the shared, hopeful vision of better health and lives richly intertwined.

Indeed, it had been a profoundly fulfilling day.

Author

Dr Ada Achinanya

Research Associate, University of York