Soul's Wisdom

  Resigning from a job is one of the boldest decisions anyone can make. It marks a moment of clarity—when you realize the place that once fit you no longer matches who you’ve become or where you’re heading. As the anonymous quote says, “Sometimes we’re forced to let go—not because we’re weak, but because we’re strong enough to know we deserve more.” I finally accepted that truth. After more than 15 years of commitment, I chose to step away from my last job. I walked out of the office not with doubt, but with quiet certainty. For the first time in a long while, I wasn’t just leaving something behind—I was stepping into something bigger. Outside, the world felt different—not because it had changed, but because I had. The air felt lighter, filled with possibility instead of routine. Even the sun seemed warmer, illuminating paths I had yet to explore. 😊 That isn’t to say I don’t miss the meaningful moments shared with exceptional colleagues or the lessons that shaped my career. Tho...

  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 Ubuntu Stories 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...

  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' ጤና ኣዳም  (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.” Image: ChatGBT Her teammate Jamal, a systems engineer from Addis Ababa, had designed the algorithm to cross-reference both WHO data and oral knowledge passed down thro...

Image: ChatGBT The sun poured through the louvered windows of Professor Luyando’s classroom at Mukuni National University, Zambia, 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  healers (doctors and nurses),  teachers, and various research scientists.    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. ...