I can imagine a world with no pilots, with no TV producers, with no presidents or prime ministers. But I can not imagine a world without doctors, without healers. Healing has to be one of those things that humans had to figure out very early in our evolution. So when I think about medicine, and being a doctor, I am in awe, that I am on the path to practicing a profession that is as old as humans. Am I even worthy to aspire to this vocation?

Although machine learning algorithms offer exciting possibilities for our health care systems, these advancements are raising valid concerns about how data scientists and physicians can ensure fairness in these algorithms.

The thing about the Negro solstice is that it was never about unlocking new superpowers. It was about cultivating the powers we always had.

You may have heard the phrase “turning blue”. In the case of a heroin overdose, some people’s skin and lips turn blue-purple due to a lack of oxygen in the blood. The medical term for this is called cyanosis. As I read an article on cyanosis recently, my hand fixed on my textbook, it dawned on me that my brown …

Whether in Mafikeng or in Hamilton, recovery is never easy. For South Africans it means facing national trauma, acknowledging the hurt, and forgiving others, including themselves. In order to build up the next generation and stop the cycle of trauma, the journey to recovery is one we must all take.

African scholars, such as Dr. Nwoye, have described grieving in African societies as a community process, where there is just as much emphasis placed on the deceased’s role within the community as there is on supporting their loved ones.

Our heart beats an average of 2.5 billion times during our lifetime! It pumps blood up to our scalp and right down to our pinky toes. We should learn how to take care of it.

We talk to Kabaka about the ideas behind his music, and how he uncovered an alternate curriculum of consciousness

I smell something burning. At the same time, fresh new snow falls, replacing the rainfall promised by man. There is an ineffable relief that Time keeps going and seasons reign in their spotlight when they are due. You’ll know where you are in time. Time locates the self in a myriad of revolutions tugging back and forth between day and …

The concept of Orí, and its significance to human destiny, within the context of Yorùbá mythology and beliefs, has received attention from African Philosophers and Yorùbá Literary Scholars such as Chief Wande Abimbola, Kola Abimbola, Ebunoluwa O. Oduwole, Oladele Balogun and many others. As Yoruba has expanded past the shores of Ife, expanded into neighboring regions, traveled around the world, …

I try very hard not to think of deconstruction. Like my eyes see more than what is not white, what is not Western or what is not material. Though it is necessary to shed what is not useful because, despite what we might think, by the time we’re aware of the world we already have solid notions of it. Life …

Because national trauma is hardly discussed in the context of its effects on diasporans, we often experience a dissonance between the distress we feel as we watch our motherland bleed, and the unspoken message that we should not be as affected because we are far away from home. The lack of validation and under recognition of the impact of national trauma on the wellbeing and mental health of members of the diaspora is a huge disservice and quite frankly harmful.”

We talk to Kabaka about the ideas behind his music, and how he uncovered an alternate curriculum of consciousness

A celebration of the food we love. The food that reminds us of home and awakens our senses of nostalgia.

I love ganja, herb, marijuana, cannabis, weed, trees… whatever name the plant goes by in your world. I love everything about it. The colour, the smell, the taste, the texture, what it represents, how useful it is in the world, how it makes me feel, the ceremonious way I encounter it within Rastafari, the space that it brings me to.  …

All the curry from her fingers rush into my nose. She was the peppers under her skin, and light as basil. All of her flowed into me as my nose swallowed the scents from her scarf. Her voice summons me to the places in between what is true, and what is possible. The living room became an auditorium, an arena, …