Each year, during Umuganura, I look forward to the boiled pumpkins, paired with plain beans, and of course intoryi (eggplants) cooked the traditional way, washed down with a sip of banana beer... Kidding. I can’t eat or drink that stuff! Dear ancestors, I’m sorry but no. Though, even if our taste buds have evolved, the heart of Umuganura: gratitude, unity, and productivity, remains worth celebrating. ALSO READ: Umuganura: spirit of harvest, revival and nationhood Umuganura, a cultural festival in which communities came together to share the harvest, is a tradition stretching back over 1,000 to 1,800 years – one of the oldest cultural institutions still alive today. In precolonial Rwanda, it was akin to a New Year, a day when the kingdom offered its earliest produce, especially sorghum, the symbolic crop, to both ancestors and the king in a ritual that infused the harvest with blessing and social cohesion. ALSO READ: Umuganura should go beyond celebrating soil’s yield Within royal courts, the king would preside over offering ceremonies, kneel to prepare umutsima (sorghum dough), and lead national reflection – setting the tone for unity, productivity, and leadership in the coming year. Under colonial rule, the cultural and spiritual significance of Umuganura was systematically eroded. Belgian authorities disregarded traditional rituals and replaced them with forced communal labor systems that distorted practices like Umuganura and undermined the festival’s essence. By the late 20th century, Umuganura’s meaning had been hollowed out and rituals largely discontinued. ALSO READ: Umuganura: A feast that brings Rwandans to the heart of their nation In 2011, Umuganura – now celebrated every first Friday of August – was officially reinstated as a national public holiday spearheaded by cultural institutions. The aim was to restore the festival’s deeper meaning, reconnect the nation to its good tradition, and celebrate national unity and progress across sectors – not just agriculture. For many young people today, Umuganura feels like just another public holiday; one more chance for the weekend vibe to stretch a little longer. And of course there’s nothing wrong with celebrating safely – yes, you can still #VibeNeza without going overboard. And, listen, I support that kind of productivity too. Social capital is still capital, right? But it’s worth remembering that this day is rooted in something deeper. Today, Umuganura extends well beyond first fruits. According to Rwanda Academy of Language and Culture, the festival now encompasses achievements in education, health, ICT, tourism, arts, and infrastructure. Rather than crops alone, Rwandans, as they should, celebrate collective national harvests, a shared yield of progress and innovation. Umuganura is a platform to showcase youth-led agricultural innovations, agri-startups, traditional arts, and cultural tourism, all reinforcing Rwanda’s development narrative, locally and internationally A few things come to mind when I think of what we should celebrate during this year’s Umuganura: A generation of tech-savvy youth engaged with AI in classrooms, coding clubs, and digital labs, thanks to initiatives by the Ministry of Education and partners. Visit Rwanda campaign, which helped elevate tourism and shaped Kigali and the nation into global destinations. Local elections where young people organized, led, and won – no longer mere voters but key political actors. An expanding healthcare network, bringing modern clinics and preventative care into rural districts, improving maternal and child outcomes. Ongoing investment in education, infrastructure, and agriculture, spotlighting innovation and intersectoral collaboration (agro-processing, renewable energy, mini‑grids, etc.) You name it; all these are modern harvests, worthy of Umuganura’s spirit. And then of course, my personal favorite: historically, women were central to Umuganura, not as observers but as primary agents. They planted, harvested, pounded, cooked, served, and led rituals in households and villages. Their labour fed the nation and preserved cultural continuity. Yet in modern accounts their roles are often overlooked. Umuganura’s full meaning comes into sharper focus when we acknowledge women’s leadership, from household economies to national policy, education, arts, and business. Today, in Rwanda, women comprise nearly two-thirds of Parliament, lead thousands of businesses, and are primary drivers of education and healthcare delivery. The story of Umuganura is incomplete without the women behind the work, past and present. They’re not just guests at the table; they’ve literally shaped the menu of national development. The classic festival table still has sorghum, beans, corn, cassava, sweet potatoes, pumpkins, and traditional greens paired with sorghum beer, banana beer, and of course, milk. And while paired boiled pumpkin with plain beans and banana beer might induce digestive rebellion; Umuganura day still demands sharing. First-fruits were once offered to the ancestors and shared in the community. Today, Rwandans are called on to share knowledge, opportunity, power, and innovation. To Rwanda’s new generation: we may no longer bow to the king, but we still bow to purpose. We may not plant sorghum at scale anymore, but we plant startups, ideas, classrooms, clinics, and innovations. We may not kneel to make umutsima for royalty, but we still kneel in service to the community through teachings, mentorship, civic engagement, and leadership. We may no longer feed with pigmented beer, but we feed minds with knowledge and shared opportunity. I know we have all noticed that every weekend now brings a cascade of weddings, and what feels like two thousand “Save the Date” posts. If that’s not a national harvest, what is? Our parents harvested millet, cassava, and cohesion in the traditional sense. We are celebrating partnerships, purpose, and, at times, the quiet weight of responsibility. These are the markers of a generation coming of age, navigating love, loss, leadership, and legacy. This, too, is continuity. This, too, is hope. And at its heart, Umuganura has always been about hope. So yes, while I may never willingly eat boiled pumpkin again (unless someone smuggles in some peanut butter), I will always believe in the spirit of Umuganura. And so, this Umuganura, I’m asking: What are you harvesting? And more importantly, what are you giving back? Maybe this year, we toast to every young Rwandan launching a startup, every teacher adapting to tech, every woman holding her ground, every marriage that strengthens a home, and every citizen quietly doing the unglamorous but essential work of nation‑building. That’s the real Umuganura.
