PODCAST - Blossom Group A Community Rooted In Love Wav
Audio – 25.8 MB 17 downloads

Welcome—khush amadeed, karibu, swaagatam, ahlan wa sahlan—however you say it, just know: You belong here.

As-salaamu alaikum, namaste, wagwan, marhaba, sat sri akaal, jambo, cześć, hola, bonjour, ohh hello—Ngozi and Arifa here, your resident sisters, community aunties, and unofficial translators of vibes.

Welcome—khush amadeed, karibu, swaagatam, ahlan wa sahlan—however you say it, just know:
You belong here.

Between us, we’ve got enough languages to start our own United Nations branch at the community centre.

Ngozi? She’s got English, Hausa, Yoruba, Igbo, Fulani, and Edo locked down. She can go from “oya, calm down jare” to “my dear, you better shine your eye” in 2 seconds flat.

Arifa? She’s that cousin who’ll speak Punjabi, Pothwari, Mirpuri, Gujarati, Urdu, Hindi, Dari, Pashto, and both Sylheti and Dhakaiya Bengali—sometimes all in one phone call. One minute it’s “oye hoye, ki haal hai?” next minute it’s “nah fam, that’s long,” followed by “duaa karo, yaar.”

Between the two of us? We cover aunties’ gossip, uncles’ debates, street slang, kitchen chitchat, mosque whispers, mandir blessings, gurdwara nods, and youth club laughs.

And Blossom Group?
Ahh yes—don’t get it twisted. This isn’t some outsider project landing from the sky.

Blossom Group grew right here. From our streets, our shops, our mosques, temples, churches, front rooms and WhatsApp auntie groups.

We’re like that pot of jollof/biryani/pilau/stew bubbling away—you didn’t even notice us cooking, but suddenly the whole neighbourhood smells it.

We’re built on izzat, baraka, and straight-up community love.
From “wagwan, bredrin?” to “oya, how far?” to “ki khobor?”—we’re fluent in real life.

This space isn’t just ours—it’s yours too. Your nani ama’s duas built it. Your uncle’s sacrifices funded it. Your mama’s strength holds it up. Your boldness keeps it lit.

So, come inside—no need to knock.
Yeh toh aapka bhi ghar hai, innit.
(This is your home too, fam.)

Bring your jokes, your language, your spice, your full self.

We’re just getting started—and trust us, it’s about to get lively.

—Ngozi & Arifa, for Blossom Group

Listen, listen

Hassan speaking here. 83 years young, Moroccan original, straight from Casablanca to UK streets, ya know.

This?
This ain’t just some website, wallah.
This is chez toi, your home.
Chai, qahwa, mint tea — all ready. Biscuit? Take two. You’re too skinny anyway, ya zalameh.

This space? It’s full-on “come inside, khoya — ahlan wa sahlan, marhaba, innit.”

Here, you’ll find stories — asli kahaniyaan, 100% halal, no filter.
You’ll get support — avec izzat, with respect, ya understand.
You’ll see action — fast fast, no long ting, no drama, wala delay.

And most important? You’ll find us — les vrais gens, apnay log, your bredrins, your fam.

So, come in, relax.
Take a breath.
Fix your hijab, niqab, dupatta, burkha, pagg, cap, topi — or your hoodie, innit.
This is your spot now, wallahi.

No stress here.
Blossom’s got you, fam. Pakka. 100% certified.
Even my grandson says, “Grandad, this site? It’s vibes.”

— Hassan (83, but still fresher than you, trust me.)

Where Everyone Belongs — And No One’s Left Behind

Let me tell you about this place —
Blossom Group.

It’s not just a building.
It’s not just a project.
It’s not just about tea and food — though trust me, there’s plenty of both.

It’s something much bigger than that.
It’s the heartbeat of a community that refuses to leave anyone behind.

From the second you walk in, you feel it —
That mix of spices, the warmth of mint tea, the quiet hum of prayers, the clatter of plates, the sound of five, six, seven languages dancing in the air.

You’ll see it too —
Mothers fresh from the school run, elders wrapped in shawls, young people in hoodies tapping on their phones, all gathered around the same tables, eating, laughing, sharing.

And before you’ve even taken off your coat, someone’s handing you a hot drink and asking if you’ve eaten.
That’s just how it works here.

But make no mistake — this isn’t just about food and friendliness.

This is where every real issue gets brought to the table —
Poverty. Racism. Loneliness. Migration. Mental health. Housing. Grief.
Nothing’s brushed under the rug here.
If it matters to people’s lives, it matters here.

This is where women fleeing violence find a safe space.
Where elders living alone find someone who remembers their name.
Where young people fighting to belong find people who see them.

It’s where folks show up for each other — whether it’s fighting for better housing, finding emergency food, helping with paperwork, or just sitting with someone in silence when they can’t speak through their tears.

This isn’t charity.
This isn’t pity.
This is solidarity. It’s action. It’s love, served hot, with extra sugar if you need it.

And here’s the bit that hits hardest:
People love to talk about integration like it’s something newcomers have to figure out on their own.
“Why can’t they just fit in?” they say.

But here’s the truth:
Integration isn’t just about learning English or eating fish and chips.

It’s about us, too —
Making space. Opening doors. Sharing power. Welcoming fully.

And funny enough, it’s the minority communities — the ones facing the hardest struggles — who’ve shown us exactly what real welcome looks like.

They’ve opened their homes, their hearts, their kitchens, their lives — to anyone who needed it.
They might be small in numbers, but they are giants in spirit, in generosity, in love.

They didn’t just make me feel accepted.
They made me feel seen.
Like I wasn’t just another face in the crowd — but someone who belonged, exactly as I am.

This isn’t some fairytale of diversity.
This is survival. It’s resilience. It’s truth.

And it’s happening right here — quietly, every day — over shared meals, deep conversations, and endless cups of tea.

So if anyone dares say, “There’s no real integration anymore,”
Tell them to come to Blossom Group.

Here, we’re already living it.
Here, no one’s left behind.
Here, everyone belongs.

And trust me… you’ll leave with more than just a full belly.
You’ll leave changed.

— Isabel (Still here, still learning, and holding onto this place like gold.)

The Founders

Alright, let me introduce the trio that started Blossom Group back in 2021.
No suits, no slogans — just big hearts, lived experience, and enough cultural knowledge to run a wedding, a protest, and a mental health workshop in thirty three languages.

First up: Shahid Mahmood
Pakistani-British. Fluent in Urdu, Punjabi, Hindi — and humanity. Also speaks straight-up community hustle and justice with jalebi on the side.

He grew up watching people fall through the cracks — and said,

"Forget waiting for the system to care. Let’s rebuild the system — together — with equity and justice for all."

Shahid is that guy who calls out unfair systems, doesn’t flinch at power, and lives for decolonising the whole thing — not just the language.

He empowers the people, not by speaking for them, but by making sure they hold the mic.
He’s the one who shows up everywhere, knows everyone but can't remember their names, and makes policy people nervous (but respectfully).
Carries lived experience and uncle-level wisdom in his back pocket.

He’ll offer you roti and revolution, tell you the truth, and still check if you’ve eaten.

Then we’ve got Amira Louati
Tunisian-British, speaks Arabic, French, English, and straight-up truth.
She’s got cultural competency in her DNA — she can decode a medical letter, explain trauma to a policymaker, and comfort your nan in the same breath.
Also known for not tolerating nonsense and knowing when to say “Wallahi, this system is broken.”
She brings the fire — and the frameworks.

And finally — Andrew Hoskins
British-British. Speaks fluent Excel, community allyship, and proper builder’s tea.
He’s not here to lead the room — he’s here to make sure it’s warm, accessible, and budgeted.
The kind of guy who gets it, doesn’t centre himself, and will absolutely take his shoes off at the door.
He’s the calm in the chaos. The clipboard in the revolution.

Together?
They didn’t form a committee.
They planted a tree.

Blossom Group: rooted in trust, reaching for justice, and growing from the ground up — in multiple languages, with cultural competence, and plenty of snacks.

And now look at us —
Serving communities, fighting injustice, handing out dignity like samosas at Eid.

Our Mission (short and sweet, like baklava)

Togetherness, always.
Justice in every layer of life.
Support that’s simple, human, and real.
And love — sticky, sweet, and for everyone.

Our Values — B.L.O.S.S.O.M.

(aka: Belonging with Biryani, Jollof Rice, or Kabuli Pilau — depending on your mum’s spice game)
— as told by ya girl CoolSoom 🧕🏽

B — Belonging
You belong. Full stop.
Even if you still say “buh-ree-an-ee” (we still love you).
Pull up in sliders, no judgement. We’ve saved you a plate.

L — Love
Not HR-policy, fake-smile love.
The “have you eaten?”, “call me when you reach”, “I put aside the crispy samosa for you” kind of love.

O — Openness
Speak English, Arabic, Urdu, Somali, Yoruba, Patois, or just make eye contact and sigh dramatically — we feel you.
"Jeri marzi bowlo yaar, challo kujh na bowlo — we get you."
(Translation: Say whatever you want, or say nothing — we still understand.)

S — Solidarity
You cry? We bring tissues, snacks, AND backup.
"Tera problem, saadey problem."
(Translation: Your problem is our problem, innit.)

S — Strength
We’ve got قوة (quwwa – Arabic for strength).
The kind passed down from ancestors and annoyed aunties.
The kind that carries shopping, trauma, and the whole family group chat.

O — Opportunity
We don’t wait for seats at the table.
We build a new table, put plastic on it, and serve karak, jollof, and vibes.
Glass ceiling? Smashed. Door closed? We kick it with chapals.

M — Movement
Not just a mood — this is a Movement.
Fueled by chai, OK fine — coffee too, for my African bredren —
plus resistance, joy, and quiet rage wrapped in a headscarf.

That’s B.L.O.S.S.O.M.
Where values come with volume.
Where healing comes in heritage.
And where everyone eats.

Impact

What’s the Real Impact of Blossom Group?

  1. We flip the system on its head.
    Where others do "consultation fatigue" and “pilot projects,” we build real solutions with real people.
    People aren’t research subjects — they’re architects of change.

  2. We restore dignity, not just data.
    No more feeling like a case number.
    Here, you’re seen, valued, and respected — in your language, with your history, on your terms.

  3. We build power from the grassroots.
    This isn’t charity from above.
    It’s community love from below. Auntie-powered, youth-fuelled, elder-blessed, lived experience driven.

  4. We support the whole person, not just the problem.
    Mental health. Physical health. Housing. Poverty. Parenting. Faith. Joy.
    No handoffs. No silos. Just wraparound care with soul.

  5. We speak every language — including silence.
    Arabic, Urdu, Punjabi, Somali, Patois, English etc, tears, sarcasm, quiet.
    Nothing gets lost in translation, because we speak like humans.

  6. We make services human again.
    Support doesn’t come in a PDF. It comes with rice, roti, a phone call, and no judgement.
    We don’t ask for proof of pain — we respond with presence.

  7. We turn survival into leadership.
    Our people go from feeling forgotten to running programmes, hosting podcasts, speaking on panels, and holding it down.

  8. We reach people others miss.
    The undocumented. The isolated. The ones who can’t fill in long forms.
    We don’t wait for them to find us — we go find them.

  9. We change lives with both heart and hustle.
    Someone who was homeless is now housed.
    Someone who didn’t speak is now on the radio.
    Someone who’d never been heard is now making policy.

  10. We bring real joy back into people’s lives.
    Trips, birthdays, theatre, art, music, movement.
    We don’t just fix crises — we celebrate life.

  11. We create belonging that sticks.
    No one is a guest here. This is your space. Your place. Your people.
    Whether you’re new, returning, unsure, undocumented, grieving or glowing — you belong.

  12. We do health with humanity.
    From diabetes to stroke to pregnancy to dementia, from covid to cancer — we do awareness, access, and action without shame, jargon, or delay.

  13. We make policy uncomfortable — and accountable.
    We sit in the rooms where decisions are made, but we don’t sit quietly.
    We speak truth in full volume, full colour, and full love.

  14. We’ve supported over 50,000 people in under 3 years.
    No gimmicks. No celebrity campaigns. Just relentless, radical care, led by people who’ve lived it.

  15. We do it all — with style, soul, and humour.
    Because our people deserve help that’s real, joyful, fierce, and rooted in love.
    And if we’re not laughing and changing the world — what’s the point?

This isn’t charity. It’s transformation.
This isn’t outreach. It’s uprising.
This isn’t a service.
It’s Blossom.
And we’re just getting started.

What Community Members say

"I was valued. I was listened to. I was cared for. I was loved. I was respected."  Marta

 

"Mainu oho mahol milia jis tarah varreyaa pehle sade pind vich hunda si — pyaar, ehsaas te izzat naal pharya hoya."

I found the same feeling here that I used to feel in the old days back in our village—filled with love, sincerity, and respect." Balwant Singh

 

“They didn’t ask for documents. They asked if I’d eaten.”
— Refugee,  Newham

 

“Blossom Group? Ah! They are not doing charity — they are doing miracle work o! I was depressed, broke, and tired. They welcomed me like family. No shame, no stress. Just love, food, and respect. One aunty even held my hand and prayed with me. My spirit lifted that day. Since then, I’ve been going for their events, getting support, and even helping others. They don’t look down on you. They lift you UP. God bless Blossom forever.”
— Ms. Adebayo, East London

 

“At first, we came to help — just volunteer a little. But Blossom welcomed us like we were part of the family. My mother cooked dumplings, my daughter helped pack food boxes, and we made friends with people from everywhere — Somali, Jamaican, Pakistani, Kurdish. No one judged us, even when our English wasn’t perfect. We felt proud, useful, respected. Blossom is not just an organisation — it’s a home where every culture shines. We gave our time, but we got back love, laughter, and purpose.”
— The Li Family, East London

 

“Blossom Group changed everything for me. As a Pakistani girl growing up here, I always felt stuck in between — not ‘British enough’ outside, not ‘perfect daughter’ enough at home. But at Blossom, I felt free to just be me. They understood — the culture, the pressure, the silence. No judgement. Just space to breathe, talk, cry, heal… and laugh. It’s the first place I’ve ever felt seen without having to explain myself. Blossom didn’t fix me — they reminded me I was never broken.”— Sana, 23, East London

 

“Look, I ain’t one for charities and all that, yeah? Half the time they talk down to you or want you fillin’ out forms just to get a tin of beans. But Blossom? Nah — they’re different. First time I walked in, I got a smile, a cuppa, and no judgement. They helped me sort my benefits, checked in on my mum, even took me and my boy to the seaside. I ain’t been treated like that in years — like I actually matter. I didn’t feel like a number. I felt like Elaine. Blossom’s the real deal, mate. Proper people, proper heart.”
— Elaine, born and bred in East London 

Bill's Story 

Bill is not just a sad story.

Bill is the system.

Or rather — what the system has become.

Disconnected. Confusing. Dehumanising.
Full of polite phrases that hide the silence underneath.

He is not a rare case.
He is the rule.

At Blossom we have changed the rules.

Read Bill's Story here

Bill’s Story: Line Disconnected

Bill wakes up every morning at 7:43. Not because he’s got anywhere to be, but because he needs to call the doctor by 8. You’ve got to ring right on the dot, or you’re done for.

At 8:00, he picks up his old landline. The same one he and Betty had for thirty-odd years. He presses the number Catherine wrote down for him once — maybe last week, maybe five years ago. He used to keep it in his diary, but he can’t remember where he’s put that. The drawer? The biscuit tin? The fridge?

He dials.
Engaged.
Hangs up. Tries again.
Engaged.
Tries again.
Ringing... ringing... nothing.

He does this most days. It’s how his mornings go.

Bill’s got dementia. Not the kind you see on telly with the violin music and the perfect lighting. No. The real kind — foggy days, missing keys, time bending like warm plastic.

He lives alone. Has done for years. Just him and his cat, Timmy. Not that Timmy’s much help with computers.

He remembers meeting the Mayor once. She shook his hand and said, “We are a united, caring community. No one is left behind.”
He believed her, back then. Not anymore. Not when he’s still staring at the patch of black mould in his hallway. It’s been there since last year — or maybe since 1991. He called the council. They told him to email Mr. Bryant.

“Email who?” he said.
“Mr. Bryant.”
“But I am Mr. Bryant.”
“Yes, we know. Email the other Mr. Bryant. The officer.”
“I don’t have email.”
“Can you ask a family member or friend?”
“I don’t have any.”

They suggested the library. He went. The woman at the desk said they couldn’t help him fill anything out. Just put him in front of a monitor and walked away. He stared at it like it was mocking him. That blank screen. That little blinking line. It felt like trying to open a tin of beans when your hands can’t grip the opener, and your stomach’s already given up hope.

Ted down the road told him you can just “order it all online now – food, medicine, everything.”
Bill doesn’t do internet. His home doesn’t have it. He doesn’t want a mobile.
"Them things bleat at you and track your soul."
He wants a person. A voice. A hand, even a tired one.

At the surgery, last time he went in, the receptionist told him,
“Don’t worry Mr. Bryant, the triage team will call you. Between 10am and 4pm. Just wait by the phone.”

He nodded. Said thank you. But inside, panic.
He doesn’t know what time it is half the time. He’s too ashamed to say,
“I forget things. I can’t tell time properly anymore.”

He saw Parvati, who used to work there. She smiled.
“Hi Mr. Bryant! Been a long time! How’s Mrs. Bryant?”
He blinked.
“She died last week. Or maybe in 2001.”
Parvati’s smile faltered.
“Oh. That’s... I’m sorry. I’ve got patients to see. Lovely to bump into you though. Lots of love to her.”

He waits by the phone all day. Won’t go to the toilet. What if they call?

It's cold.
He should top up the gas meter.
But the key... where is it?
“Betty?” he calls.
“Where did you put the bleedin’ key?”

Silence.
Of course. Betty's gone. Years ago now. Or was it last week?

The phone rings.
His heart jumps. He reaches for it — knocks the receiver off the hook.

“Mr. Bryant?”
“Yes, it’s me — sorry, I’m getting the receiver.”
He fumbles. His fingers won’t listen.
“Mr. Bryant, can you hear me?”
“Yes! Yes, I can hear you, sorry—”
The phone cuts out.

Dead line.

Then… a voice. Familiar. Warm.

“Bill? You okay? It’s Jackie. From Blossom.”

He’s not at home anymore. He’s sitting in a big chair in the community centre. He’s not sure how he got there. He’s surrounded by faces — worried ones.

Then — one by one — they turn into people he knows.

“Sahera.”
“Hussain.”
“Ayesha.”
“Maureen.”
“Bilqis.”
“Julia.”
“Elaine.”
“Rahmat.”

They’re all there.

“Come on, Bill, mate. You gave us a fright.”
“Dropped your mobile, mate. Gotta keep that in your pocket.”

Mobile?

He remembers. Jackie had given him one. Spent hours teaching him how to answer it, save names, even record a voice note. She’d arranged for someone to visit every day. Help with gas, food, calls. She’d booked his appointments. Written things down in big letters. Asked permission to talk to the surgery.

At Blossom, everyone knows Bill.

They know Betty died in 2001.
They know he prefers the paper with the big crossword.
They know he doesn’t like fish pie.
They know he needs reminding, but never shaming.
And when he wasn’t there that morning — they noticed.

Yes, they’re busy. It’s always busy at Blossom. Everything happening at once — meetings, boxes, drop-ins, hugs, food, laughter.

But when they’re with you, it’s like time stops.

Bill sits, wrapped in a blanket someone brought.
A warm cuppa in his hand. The chair soft. The chatter comforting.

He looks around.

“I wish Betty was alive,” he says softly,
“We’d both come here.”

And he smiles.
For the first time in weeks.

Services

Address

16 Courtenay Road, london

E11 3PY London

Phone

07786478961

Connect

Where to find us

 

MONDAY'S

3 The Grove, London E15 1EL, 

Togetherness Cafe  12pm to 2pm

WEDNESDAY'S

2 Crawley Road
London E10 6RJ

Togetherness Cafe

11am to 2.30pm

Community Box

12.00pm to 2.00pm

 

 

THURSDAY'S

Redbridge Institute,Unit B, Gaysham Ave, Gants Hill Crescent, Ilford IG2 6TD

Togetherness Cafe

11am to 1pm

Community Box

1pm to 2pm

SATURDAY'S

Pasture Youth Centre,  5 Davies Lane, Bushwood, London E11 3DR

Togetherness Cafe

11am to 2.30pm

Community Box 

12.00 to 2.00pm