Winnie Rugamba
Bio
Searching for Home...meanwhile, I write.
Stories (15)
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You are welcome in this place.
You are welcome in this place. In this place, you do not need to be bothered by what you know or don't know. You need not to worry about the extra weight around your waist, the way you can't help but snort when you laugh, the way you are so aware of your lack of knowledge about the world in the way everyone else seems to know. In this place, there is no black or white- no right or wrong, in this place it is gray- it is nuanced- it is complicated.
By Winnie Rugambaabout a year ago in Writers
My Grandmother- My grief.. Content Warning.
November 27th, 2023, I wiped my grandmother's face with a warm towel- as she coughed her last breath up. She'd been in a coma for about two days- but I was sure she was coming back. She didn't come back in the ways I was hoping she would- but she also never left, in the ways that I didn't know that I needed. This is my father's mother. Cecile Mukarumongi. She is here, in my thoughts, decisions, and prayers, in my thick hair, in the rolls in my neck, in my thick lips, and of course in my Snapchat memories.
By Winnie Rugambaabout a year ago in Writers
Sometimes Leaving Home Is the Only Way to Find Home
I think I was around 10 years old when I learned about my family members that lived in different parts of the world: Canada, the U.S., and Europe. Some happened to be part of my nuclear family, close members that I had never met and likely to never meet, because they had "refused" to come back home—Rwanda home.
By Winnie Rugamba7 years ago in Humans
Why I Stopped "Communicating"
Do you know that person that just never answers their phone? Replies to text messages after a whole century? Says they will call you back and you know that's a lie? Or that friend that promises to hit you up so that you can make plans and you are still waiting for her/him to do so....? Yeah, that friend.... that friend is me.Now, before you start wondering why I am proudly exposing my flaws, let me first take you through the days when I was basically perfect, so that maybe when you are done reading this and you decide to hate me, you will have to make that decision based on both sides of the story and not just one.Once upon a time, my life revolved around my friends, it relied on the number of people in my life and I loved it. I loved meeting new people, the journey of finding out who one is, I enjoyed spending hours on the phone, laughing or you know? Doing a healthy amount of gossiping. I made sure I never missed a birthday, maintain the relationship and all the stuff that a "great friend" does including avoiding awkward conversations that would lead to confrontation, including taking the blame for things I haven't done, including going out for them even if I didn't want to and hey... a lot more things that no one forced me to do per se... but that's what a good friend does, no?
By Winnie Rugamba7 years ago in Humans
To the Kid with "Potential"
“Winnie, you’re going to do big things in life.” If I got a dollar every single time this was said to me, hey, I would not be sitting in Wiley College trying to get a degree, I’d probably be somewhere in the gorgeous streets of Venice, living life, but alas! Here I am.
By Winnie Rugamba8 years ago in Longevity
Dear Africans, Mental Health is a Thing
Dear Africans, I write this with a heavy heart and as much as I know that mental health is a global issue, I write specifically to Africans because I am one and because I am familiar with the root cause of our issues considering the fact that most African nations tend to go through the same issues. Rwanda being my mother and father's home land, a country that has genocide tied to its history it is inevitable that there are numerous people living with wounds, nightmares, and places in their minds and hearts that have never been fully visited because of the sharp pain that resides there. However, it does not even need to take something as tragic as a genocide for one to be emotionally and mentally misplaced, it can be anything and it can happen to anyone.
By Winnie Rugamba8 years ago in Psyche
The Day I Stopped Taking Pictures.
If you know me, you know I love taking pictures, more like being in the picture though. I remember at some point my sister had become my personal photographer, we had real photo shoot sessions till she grew a bit older and realized that she was actually NOT my slave(just so you know, she is the one that takes endless pictures now). Growing up, I would say I was pretty skinny until I hit puberty and as expected, my body started to change. It became fuller and with the kind of women in my family, it was inevitable that I was soon to inherit their curves, which the Rwandan culture happens to glorify. Which goes without saying that it is the norm for a Rwandan lady to be full-figured or curvaceous as some call it. I was the norm.
By Winnie Rugamba8 years ago in Longevity
