hall parties - a love letter to aunties

Hello hello! I hope you’re doing alright.

I tried something different for this month’s blog, I made a video essay about my love of hall parties and aunties, and I compare the differences in community building between my parents and their peers vs the youths of the “London creative scene”. The video is below, or you can follow the link here .

If you’re quirky and would prefer to read the essay, you can also read it below!

I love a hall party. Family and friends gather to share a gorgeous spread of food, giving them the fuel they need to cut some serious shapes on the dancefloor. When chatting with my friends who are also a part of the African diaspora, they echo memories of attending hall parties in their youth. We also acknowledge that it’s been too many years since we last attended one.But that changed for me at the start of August, when I had the joy of going to a hall party that my family put together. After filling up my stomach with rice and an assortment of stews, I came to understand why they seem to be dwindling in popularity. Hall parties require two things I think we’re losing but desperately desire: community and generosity. When James Baldwin said “the world is held together, really it is, held together, by the love and the passion of a very few people”, he must have been referring to African women because Aunties are the glue, the spine and the foundation of my community, and hall parties are simply not possible without them. This one is for them. 

COMMUNITY

By definition, I am a literal auntie, my siblings have children, but I don’t believe I have earned true Auntie status. Auntie is a sign of respect. Auntie is a grown woman who can cook enough rice to serve forty people with ease. Auntie always has a solution. Auntie might be the problem. Auntie is the name of the relative that you recognise but can’t quite remember the name of because you’ve only ever called her Auntie. Auntie is the stranger who calls you “sweetie, angel or darling” when you help her with their bags at the station. Auntie is not to be challenged. Auntie hugs you so tight, you just might pass out. And somehow, no matter what time of day it is, Auntie has always just finished making food so there’s plenty to eat!

The aunties that came together for this hall party were from my parent’s community. And let me tell you something, Linked In has nothing on African parents when it comes to networking. I had to sit down with my mum so she could explain who she had invited. Every person on her list came with a back story of how they met back in Zimbabwe, when they last saw each other here in England and how I ought to remember meeting them when I was like seven months old. 

The framework for community in my parents generation is something I admire. There is a baseline of support just for anyone who has made the same journey as them, moving from Zimbabwe to England, and understanding how isolating it is to be so far away from home and starting a new life in a place that finds ways to remind you that you are not always welcome. I mean, we saw the violent physical manifestation of the psychological prison that is white supremacy and classism, this summer. The English Defence League and other fascist groups are told lies by the government: talks of immigrants stealing jobs and threatening national security, when really the immigrants I know and love are taking care of family, sharing a meal and hitting a mean two-step when they can.

The threshold for making friends for my parents seems to be lower than it is for my peers, not to suggest that they don’t have standards, but I feel their love is more vast. “Oh, so you’re from Zim?” “Oh, you know my friend’s cousin?” “Ah, you live near the venue? Yeah come along to this party we are having”. It was refreshing to see a community outside of the notorious creative scene in London, where making connections for your personal life and work are treated as one in the same. Where it's normal for someone you’ve just met to ask you to collaborate on something before they’ve even asked how you are. Where if you're not immediately useful for the project they want to make, you're discounted as a friend. And I get it, people want to work with people they like, but it’s so  strange to limit your friendships to solely those you want to work with.

I am speaking in general comparisons here because not every person who works in the creative scene in London operates like this, and my parents don’t just invite random people into our home. I do understand that time and maturity are big influences on this difference, I am only twenty-one years old, I still have much more life to live to form those life-long connections my parents have, but I do think it's interesting how different circles organise themselves.

GENEROSITY

These hall parties require each person to be generous. It goes without saying that most things cost more now than they did ten years ago, and hall parties are no exception. But beyond the financial commitment, it was the generosity of time and resources that warmed my heart. Friends and family made the effort to travel to the party, with the journey times ranging from ten minutes to three and half hours. Food was being prepared a day in advance and responsibilities were divided up between the group: one relative brought serving trays, another brought lights, others brought food, others brought decorations. 

It takes so much time and love to put these events on, and in a work culture that keeps you busy and exhausted, the free time you have is precious. For that time to be used to bring people together and celebrate life is beautiful. Once again, some of these resources require some years of experience to acquire, like a well paying job to afford the monetary costs of a hall party, or the time it takes learn my mother’s go-to recipes, but if grown adults with families can chip in to throw a solid party where everyone leaves having had a good time, I think us new adults with no dependents can learn a thing or two to carry the torch. 

Thank you to the Aunties of this world, I love you and I cannot wait to be you when I grow up!