Soul's Wisdom

  Resigning from a job is one of the boldest decisions a person can make—a defining moment of realization that the familiar space no longer aligns with who they are or where they are meant to be. It is a step toward something greater. As an anonymous quote wisely states,  "Sometimes we’re forced to let go—not because we’re weak, but because we’re strong enough to know we deserve more."   And so, I embraced that truth. After 15+ years of dedication, I finally made the decision to resign from my last job. I walked out of that office—not with hesitation, but with quiet certainty. For the first time in a long while, I wasn’t leaving something behind—I was stepping into something greater. The world outside felt different—not because it had changed, but because I had . The air was lighter, carrying possibilities instead of obligations. The sun, warmer, casting a glow on roads I had yet to travel. That doesn’t mean I haven’t missed the memorable times shared with great c...

  We Refuse Amnesia. Our ancestors still whisper between the lines of colonial textbooks. To resurrect the soul of Africa, we must begin with memory—not nostalgia—and transform lament into action. First, we must rewrite the curriculum. Ministries of education need to purge the "single stories" that erase us and replace them with oral histories, indigenous knowledge systems, and ancestral proverbs . Children must be taught that their skin is a library, their language a compass. Then we reclaim the digital space. Let us build Afrocentric platforms—imagine an AfroWiki, a Sankara Archives—where truths buried by search engines can surface and thrive. Let #UbuntuStories flood the timelines: grandmothers’ lullabies, the wisdom of farmers, the poems of the young. Let’s hijack the algorithm with beauty, turning virality into unity memes—not endless streams of trauma. Reviving the council fire means restoring dialogue. We must gather elders and youth under baobab trees, not behind ste...

  Six months into the semester, The Integration Studio had gone beyond discussion. It had become a living lab. At the far end of campus, students from Ethiopia, Ghana, Kenya, and Senegal were grouped around makeshift stations filled with clay pots, solar sensors, and leaves drying in the sun. Meklit, a third-year student from Wollo, stood at the center of the herbal pharmacology group. Before her, laid out on a handwoven mat, were vials of extracts from  'tenadam' (Ruta chalepensis), known back home to soothe stomach issues and purify blood. She wasn’t just studying these herbs—she was coding an AI-driven diagnostic tool that could suggest combinations based on both symptoms and traditional Ethiopian treatments. “We’re not replacing doctors,” she always said. “We’re restoring forgotten ones.” Her teammate Jamal, a systems engineer from Addis Ababa, had designed the algorithm to cross-reference both WHO data and oral knowledge passed down through his grandmother—encoded...

The sun poured through the louvered windows of Professor Luyando’s classroom at Mukuni National University, casting golden light on the woven mats that lined the back wall—gifts from elders who still read the soil like scripture and knew the sky’s moods by heart. “Today,” Luyando began, her voice calm but resolute, “we are not just learning. We are reclaiming.” The students leaned in—future engineers, teachers, agricultural scientists, and healers. This was no ordinary course. It was The Integration Studio, a new curriculum initiative that aimed to disrupt the colonial foundation of African education by fusing ancestral knowledge with contemporary learning. “For too long,” she continued, “we’ve sat in classrooms shaped by people who did not believe our grandmothers could think.” A ripple of silence swept the room. Her words struck deep—not in anger, but in recognition. Luyando gestured toward the holo-screen behind her. On the left appeared a scanned page from a 1938 biology textb...