There’s something I can only describe as magical in watching your child fall asleep to the bassline of a mas band truck. This year my son FINALLY surrendered to the nap he’d been fighting all day in my arms, his little head heavy on my shoulder as we wove through the crowd searching for one of his aunties, flags whipping around us, soca shouting into the sky.
This wasn’t his first Carnival. We brought him last year too, when he was four months old, a bundle tucked into the carrier, fed on the steps of someone’s house, his ears protected (no chance of keeping those on this year 😅) and his little body already vibrating with the feel of Carnival. What is usually a big social event for us, last year for the first time it was just us, Londoner parents, one Jamaican heritage and one raised in the same city but in a different culture, sharing something familiar and precious with our first child. This year, we weren’t alone. More friends now carried their babies too. And it felt very much like we weren’t just attending the Carnival we always have; we’re passing down an inheritance.
There’s a lot said about Carnival - and almost all of it misses the point. Headlines love the drama but when you step into it, really step into it, you see something else entirely: joy and defiance. You see Black British culture not flattened for consumption but loud and tender. You see toddlers like ours on shoulders, elders nodding to the beat, teenagers in sequins and flags. Home. As always a celebration and a protest and this year again, the protest feels so necessary, pushing against the rise of the right wing and pushing causes like Palestine to the fore.
When my son, years from now, scrolls through pictures, I hope he sees not just the costumes but the people – the aunties handing him snacks, the friends dancing with his friends now grown too, the strangers who grinned at him asleep and said, “Start them young.” I hope he feels that this is part of who he is.
Want to keep the music going for your little ones? Books are a beautiful way to bring Carnival home:
Grandma, What’s That? Notting Hill Carnival (Nine Mile Babies) https://amzn.to/45zBTAr
First Festivals, Carnival Lift The Flap Book (Ladybird) https://amzn.to/3HNPvi8
Carnival Queen, Donette Williams-Harry https://amzn.to/45zW9lp
Chaos at The Notting Hill Carnival, Anne John-Ligali https://amzn.to/3JOxkJO
Bella’s Notting Hill Carnival Parade and Activity Book, Anne John-Ligali - a sequel Chaos for older readers https://amzn.to/47dy19j https://amzn.to/4lPveH9
Coming to England (Floella Benjamin) picture or Windrush Child (Benjamin Zephaniah) - for older children, a story of migration, identity, and resilience to give context. https://amzn.to/4mRX9XQ https://amzn.to/3V59lc1
Also very excitingly, another aunty found this absolute gem in a charity shop and there are some copies for sale online too - Nini at Carnival, Errol Lloyd https://www.awesomebooks.com/book/9780099501817/nini-at-carnival-red-fox-picture-books/used
So to end this part blog, part booklist, mostly love letter Carnival isn’t something to watch and it isn’t just something to enjoy, it’s something to pass on. My husband grew up with it, I grew up around it, and now our son is carried through it, literally, fast asleep, while the music and crowd roar. This is what our legacy looks life; soft, sweaty curls stuck to our arms while steel pans sing and we swarm to the nearest not exit only tube.
