Ẹnì kọ̀ọ̀kan tí ó bá ń ṣisẹ́ ní ẹ̀tọ́ láti gba owó oṣù tí ó tọ́ tí yóò sì tó fún òun àti ẹbí rẹ̀ láti gbé ayé tí ó bu iyì kún ènìyàn; a sì lè fi kún owó yìí nípasẹ̀ oríṣìí àwọn ètò ìrànlọ́wọ́ mìíràn nígbà tí ó bá ye.


Everyone has the right to form and to join trade unions for the protection of his interests.


Ẹnì kọ̀ọ̀kan ló ní ẹ̀tọ́ láti dá ẹgbẹ́ òṣìṣẹ́ sílẹ̀ àti láti dara pọ̀ mọ́ irú ẹgbẹ; bẹ́ẹ̀ láti dáàbò bo àwọn ohun tí ó jẹ ẹ́ lógún.


Article 24


Abala kẹrìnlélógún


Everyone has the right to rest and leisure, including reasonable limitation of working hours and periodic holidays with pay.


Ẹnì kọ̀ọ̀kan ló ní ẹ̀tọ́ sí ìsinmi àti fàájì pẹ̀lú àkókò tí kò pọ̀ jù lẹ́nu iṣẹ́ àti àsìkò ìsinmi lẹ́nu iṣẹ́ láti ìgbà dé ìgbà tí a ó sanwó fún.


Article 25


Abala kẹẹ̀ẹ́dọ́gbọ̀n


Everyone has the right to a standard of living adequate for the health and well-being of himself and of his family, including food, clothing, housing and medical care and necessary social services, and the right to security in the event of unemployment, sickness, disability, widowhood, old age or other lack of livelihood in circumstances beyond his control.


Ẹnì kọ̀ọ̀kan ló ní ẹ̀tọ́ láti gbé ìgbé ayé tó bójú mu nínú èyí tí òun àti ẹbí rẹ̀ yóò wà ní ìlera àti àlàáfíà, tí wọn yóò sì ní oúnjẹ, aṣọ, ilégbèé, àti àn fàní fún ìwòsàn àti gbogbo ohun tó lè mú ẹ̀dá gbé ìgbé ayé rere, bákan náà, ẹnì kọ̀ọ̀kan ló tún ní ààbò nígbà àìníṣẹ́lọ́wọ́, nígbà àìsà n, nígbà tó bá di aláàbọ̀‐ara, ní ipò opó, nígbà ogbó rẹ̀ tàbí ìgbà mìíràn tí ènìyàn kò ní ọ̀nà láti rí oúnjẹ òò jọ́, tí eléyìí kì í sì í ṣe ẹ̀bi olúwa rẹ̀.


Motherhood and childhood are entitled to special care and assistance.


A ní láti pèsè ìtọ́jú àti ìrànlọ́wọ́ pàtàkì fún àwọn abiyamọ àti àwọn ọmọdé.


All children, whether born in or out of wedlock, shall enjoy the same social protection.


Gbogbo àwọn ọmọdé yóò máa jẹ àwọn àn fàní ààbò kan náà nínú àwùjọ yálà àwọn òbí wọn fẹ́ ara wọn ni tàbí wọn kò fẹ́ ara wọn.


Article 26


Abala kẹrìndínlọ́gbọ̀n


Everyone has the right to education.


Ẹnì kọ̀ọ̀kan ló ní ẹ̀tọ́ láti kọ́ ẹ̀kọ́.


Education shall be free, at least in the elementary and fundamental stages.


Ó kéré tán, ẹ̀kọ́ gbọdọ̀ jẹ́ ọ̀fẹ́ ní àwọn ilé‐ẹ̀kọ́ alákọ̀ọ́bẹ̀rẹ̀.


Elementary education shall be compulsory.


Ẹkọ́ ní ilé‐ẹ̀kọ́ alákọ̀ọ́bẹ̀rẹ̀ yìí sì gbọdọ̀ jẹ́ dandan.


Technical and professional education shall be made generally available and higher education shall be equally accessible to all on the basis of merit.


A gbọdọ̀ pèsè ẹ̀kọ́ iṣẹ́‐ọwọ́, àti ti ìmọ̀‐ẹ̀rọ fún àwọn ènìyàn lápapọ̀, àn fàní tó dọ́gba ní ilé‐ẹ̀kọ́ gíga gbọdọ̀ wà ní àrọ́wọ́tó gbogbo ẹni tó bá tọ́ sí.


Education shall be directed to the full development of the human personality and to the strengthening of respect for human rights and fundamental freedoms.


Ohun tí yóò jẹ́ ète ẹ̀kọ́ ni láti mú ìlọsíwájú tó péye bá ẹ̀dá ènìyàn, kí ó sì túbọ̀ rí i pé àwọn ènìyàn bọ̀wọ̀ fún ẹ̀tọ́ ọmọnìyàn àti àwọn òmìnira wọn, tó jẹ́ kò‐ṣeé‐má‐nìí.


It shall promote understanding, tolerance and friendship among all nations, racial or religious groups, and shall further the activities of the United Nations for the maintenance of peace.


E tò ẹ̀kọ́ gbọdọ̀ lè rí i pé ẹ̀mí; ìgbọ́ra‐ẹni‐yé, ìbágbépọ̀ àlàáfíà, àti ìfẹ́ ọ̀rẹ́‐sí‐ọ̀rẹ́ wà láàrin orílẹ̀‐èdè, láàrin ẹ̀yà kan sí òmíràn àti láàrin ẹlẹ́sìn kan sí òmíràn, etò‐ẹ̀kọ́ sì gbọdọ̀ kún àwọn akitiyan Àjọ‐ìsọ̀kan orílẹ̀‐èdè àgbáyé lọ́wọ́ láti rí i pé àlàáfíà fìdí múlẹ̀.


Parents have a prior right to choose the kind of education that shall be given to their children.


Àwọn òbí ló ní ẹ̀tọ́ tó ga jù lọ láti yan ẹ̀kọ́ tí wọ́n bá fẹ́ fún àwọn ọmọ wọn.


Article 27


Abala kẹtàdínlọ́gbọ̀n


Everyone has the right freely to participate in the cultural life of the community, to enjoy the arts and to share in scientific advancement and its benefits.


Ẹnì kọ̀ọ̀kan ló ní ẹ̀tọ́ láìjẹ́ pé a fi ipá mú un láti kópa nínú àpapọ̀ ìgbé ayé àwùjọ rẹ̀, kí ó jẹ ìgbádùn gbogbo ohun àmúṣẹ wà ibẹ̀, kí ó sì kópa nínú ìdàgbàsókè ìmọ̀ sáyẹ́n sì àti àwọn àn fàní tó ń ti ibẹ̀ jáde.


Everyone has the right to the protection of the moral and material interests resulting from any scientific, literary or artistic production of which he is the author.


Ẹnì kọ̀ọ̀kan ló ní ẹ̀tọ́ sí ààbò àn fàní ìmọyì àti ohun ìní tí ó jẹ yọ láti inú iṣẹ́ yòówù tí ó bá ṣe ìbáà ṣe ìmọ̀ sáyẹ́n sì, ìwé kíkọ tàbí iṣẹ́ ọnà.


Article 28


Abala kejìdínlọ́gbọ̀n


Everyone is entitled to a social and international order in which the rights and freedoms set forth in this Declaration can be fully realized.


Ẹnì kọ̀ọ̀kan ló ní ẹ̀tọ́ sí ètò nínú àwùjọ rẹ̀ àti ní gbogbo àwùjọ àgbáyé níbi tí àwọn ẹ̀tọ́ òmìnira tí a ti gbé kalẹ̀ nínú ìkéde yìí yóò ti jẹ́ mímúṣẹ.


Article 29


Abala kọkàndínlọ́gbọ̀n


Everyone has duties to the community in which alone the free and full development of his personality is possible.


Ẹnì kọ̀ọ̀kan ló ní àwọn ojúṣe kan sí àwùjọ, nípasẹ̀ èyí tí ó fi lè ṣeé ṣe fún ẹni náà láti ní ìdàgbàsókè kíkún gẹ́gẹ́ bí ẹ̀dá ènìyàn.


In the exercise of his rights and freedoms, everyone shall be subject only to such limitations as are determined by law solely for the purpose of securing due recognition and respect for the rights and freedoms of others and of meeting the just requirements of morality, public order and the general welfare in a democratic society.


O fin yóò de ẹnì kọ̀ọ̀kan láti fi ọ̀wọ̀ àti ìmọyì tí ó tọ́ fún ẹ̀tọ́ àti òmìnira àwọn ẹlòmíràn nígbà tí ẹni náà bá ń lo àwọn ẹ̀tọ́ àti òmìnira ara rẹ̀,  eyí wà ní ìbámu pẹ̀lú ọ̀nà tó yẹ, tó sì tọ́ láti fi báni lò nínú àwùjọ fún ire àti àlàáfíà àwùjọ náà nínú èyí tí ìjọba yóò wà lọ́wọ́ gbogbo ènìyàn.


These rights and freedoms may in no case be exercised contrary to the purposes and principles of the United Nations.


A kò gbọdọ̀ lo àwọn ẹ̀tọ́ àti òmìnira wọ̀nyí rárá, ní ọ̀nà yòówù kó jẹ́, tó bá lòdì sí àwọn ète àti ìgbékalẹ̀ Ajọ‐àpapọ̀ orílẹ̀‐èdè agbáyé.


Article 30


Abala ọgbọ̀n


Nothing in this Declaration may be interpreted as implying for any State, group or person any right to engage in any activity or to perform any act aimed at the destruction of any of the rights and freedoms set forth herein.


A kò gbọdọ̀ túmọ̀ ohunkóhun nínú ìkéde yìí gẹ́gẹ́ bí ohun tí ó fún orílẹ̀‐èdè kan tàbí àkójọpọ̀ àwọn ènìyàn kan tàbí ẹnìkẹ́ni ní ẹ̀tọ́ láti ṣe ohunkóhun tí yóò mú ìparun bá èyíkéyìí nínú àwọn ẹ̀tọ́ àti òmìnira tí a kéde yìí.


When immigrants are threatened with roundups, detention and deportations, their employers know that they can be abused, that they can be told that if they fight back, they'll be turned over to ICE.


Nígbà tí wọ́n bá ń dúkokò mọ́ àwọn aṣíkiri pẹ̀lú ìkójọpọ̀, ìtì-mọ́lé àti ìdápadà-sílé, àwọn òṣìṣẹ wọn mọ̀ pé wọ́n lè bú wọn, pé wọ́n lè sọ fún wọn pé tí wọ́n bá jà padà, wọ́n lè fàwón fún ICE.


When employers know that they can terrorize an immigrant with his lack of papers, it makes that worker hyper-exploitable, and that has impacts not only for immigrant workers but for all workers.


Nígbà tí àwọn agbanisíṣẹ́ bá mọ pé àwọn lè dúkokò mọ́ aṣíkiri pẹ̀lú àìníwè rẹ̀, ó máa ń jẹ́ kí wọ́n lo òṣìṣẹ́ yẹn nílò kulò kọjá àyè, ìyẹn sì ti nípa kìí ṣe fún àwọn òṣìṣẹ́ aṣíkiri nìkan ṣùgbọ́n fún gbogbo àwọn òṣìṣẹ́.


Second, we need to ask questions about responsibility.


Ìkejì, a nílò láti bèrè ìbéèrè nípa ojúṣe.


What role have rich, powerful countries like the United States played in making it hard or impossible for immigrants to stay in their home countries?


Kíni ipa tí àwọn orílẹ̀-èdè tó lówó, tó lágbára bíi orílẹ̀-ède United State ń kó láti jẹ́ kó le tàbí kó má ṣe é ṣe fún àwọn aṣíkiri láti dúró sí orílè-èdè abínibí wọn?


Picking up and moving from your country is difficult and dangerous, but many immigrants simply do not have the option of staying home if they want to survive.


Ìdìde àti gbígbéra láti orílẹ̀-ède yín nira ó sì léwu, ṣùgbọ́n ọ̀pọ̀lọpọ̀ àwọn aṣíkiri ò ní àǹfààní ìdúró sílé tí wọ́n bá fẹ́ yè.


Wars, trade agreements and consumer habits rooted in the Global North play a major and devastating role here.


Ogun, àdéhùn òwò àti ìwa oníbárá tó gbilẹ̀ ní Global North ń kópa pàtàkì àti aléwu níbí.


What responsibilities do the United States, the European Union and China -- the world's leading carbon emitters -- have to the millions of people already uprooted by global warming?


Ojúṣe wo ni orílẹ̀-ède United State àti China -- àwọn tí wọ́n ń léwájú níbi ìgbéjáde òyì-èédú lágbàáyé -- ní sí ẹgbẹ̀rún-lọ́nà-ẹgbẹ̀rún àwọn ènìyàn tí ìgbóná àgbáyé ti ṣí nídì?


And third, we need to ask questions about equality.


Ìkẹ́ta, a nílò láti bèrè ìbéèrè nípa ìdọ́gba.


Global inequality is a wrenching, intensifying problem.


Aìdọ́gba àgbáyé jẹ́ ìṣòro tó ń rún nǹkan, t’ó sì lágbára.


Income and wealth gaps are widening around the world.


Àlàfo ìpawó-wọlé àti ọrọ̀ ń fẹjú jákèjádò àgbáyé.


Increasingly, what determines whether you're rich or poor, more than anything else, is what country you're born in, which might seem great if you're from a prosperous country.


Ní àlékún, nǹkan tó ń sọ bóyá ẹ lówó tàbí tòṣì, ju nǹkan mìíràn lọ, ni orílé-èdè wo ni wọ́n bíi yín sí, tó lè dàbi ẹni pé ó lágbára tí ẹ bá wá láti orílẹ̀-èdè tó làmìlaaka.


But it actually means a profoundly unjust distribution of the chances for a long, healthy, fulfilling life.


Ṣùgbọ́n ó túmọ sí ìpín àìṣedédé alágbára àwọn àǹfààní fún ìgbeayé pípẹ́, alálàáfíà, onítẹ́lọ́rùn.


When immigrants send money or goods home to their family, it plays a significant role in narrowing these gaps, if a very incomplete one.


Nígbà tí àwọn aṣíkiri bá fi owó tàbí ẹrù ránṣẹ́ sílé sí ẹbí wọn, ó máa ń kó ipa tó ṣe pàtàkì níbi ṣíṣe àdínkù àwọn àlàfo wọ̀nyí, tí ó bá jẹ́ èyí tí ò pé.


It does more than all of the foreign aid programs in the world combined.


Ó ṣe ju gbogbo àwọn ètò ìrànwọ́ ilẹ̀ òkèèrè ní àgbáríjọpọ̀ àgbáyé lọ.


We began with the nativist questions, about immigrants as tools, as others and as parasites.


A bẹ̀rẹ̀ pẹ̀lú ìbéèrè àwọn alátìlẹyìn ọmọ-ìlú, nípa àwọn aṣíkiri gẹ́gẹ́ bi irinṣẹ́, gẹ́gẹ́ bi àwọn tó kù àti ajọ̀fẹ́.


Where might these new questions about worker rights, about responsibility and about equality take us?


Níbo ni àwọn ìbéèrè tuntun wọ̀nyí nípa ẹ̀tọ́ àwọn òṣìṣẹ́, nípa ojúṣe àti nípa ìdógba ń múwa lọ?


These questions reject pity, and they embrace justice.


Àwọn ìbéèrè wọ̀nyí kọ ìkáàánú, wọ́n sì gba ìṣedédé.


These questions reject the nativist and nationalist division of us versus them.


Àwọn ìbéèrè wọ̀nyí kọ ìpínyà àwọn alátìlẹyìn ọmọ-ìlú àti àwọn alátìlẹyìn àpapọ̀ nípa àwa kojú àwọn.


They're going to help prepare us for problems that are coming and problems like global warming that are already upon us.


Wọn yóò rànwá lọ́wọ́ láti múra sílẹ̀ fún àwọn ìṣòro tó ń bọ̀ àti àwọn ìṣòro bíi ìgbóná àgbáyé t’ó ti wà lórí wa.


It's not going to be easy to turn away from the questions that we've been asking towards this new set of questions.


Kò ní rọrùn láti yí kúrò níbi àwọn ìbéèrè tí a ti ń bérè nípa sẹ́ẹ́tì àwọn ìbéèrè tuntun yìí.


It's no small challenge to take on and broaden the borders of us.


Kì í ṣe ìdojúkọ kékeré láti kojú k’á sì fẹ àwọn enubodè wa.


It will take wit, inventiveness and courage.


Ó máa gba ọgbọ́n, ìṣẹ̀dá àti ìgbóyà.


The old questions have been with us for a long time, and they're not going to give way on their own, and they're not going to give way overnight.


Àwọn ìbéèrè àtijọ́ ti wà pẹ̀lu wa fún ìgbà pípẹ́, wọn ò sì ní bìlà fúnra wọn, tí wọn ò sì ní bìlà lọ́sàán-kan óru-kan.


And even if we manage to change the questions, the answers are going to be complicated, and they're going to require sacrifices and tradeoffs.


Kódà tí a bá gbìyànjú láti ṣe àyípadà àwọn ìbéèrè náà, àwọn ìdáhùn náà máa jẹ́ àmúdijú, wọ́n sì máa gba ìfarajìn àti ìṣedédé.


And in an unequal world, we're always going to have to pay attention to the question of who has the power to join the conversation and who doesn't.


Ní orílẹ̀-èdè àgbáyé tí ò dọ́gba, a máà nílò láti fi ọkàn sí ìbéèrè pé ta ló ní agbára láti darapọ̀ mọ́ àsọgbà náà àti eni tí ò ní.


But the borders of the immigration debate can be moved.


Ṣùgbọ́n àwọn enubòdè àríyànjiyàn ìwọlé látókèrè lè di sísún.


It's up to all of us to move them.


Ó dọwọ́ gbogbo wa láti sún wọn.


Thank you.


Ẹ ṣeun.


What I learned about freedom after escaping North Korea


Nǹkan tí mo kò nípa òmìnira lẹ́yìn tí mo sá kúrò ní  orílẹ̀-ède North Korea.


I was born in 1993 in the northern part of North Korea, in a town called Hyesan, which is on the border with China.


Wọ́n bí mi ní ọdún 1993 ní apá àríwá orílẹ̀-ède North Korea, ní agbègbè kan tí wọ́n ń pè ní Hyesan, tó wà pààlà pẹ̀lú orílẹ̀-ède China


I had loving parents and one older sister.


Mo ní àwọn òbí tí wọ́n nífẹ̀ẹ́ àti ẹ̀gbọ́n obìnrin kan.


Before I was even 10 years old, my father was sent to a labor camp for engaging in illegal trading.


Kí n tiẹ̀ tó pé ọmọ ọdún mẹ́wà, wọ́n rán bàbá mi lọ sí ìpàgọ́ àwọn òṣìṣẹ́ fún kíkópa nínú ìṣòwò àìbófinmu.


"Now, by ""illegal trading"" -- he was selling clogs, sugar, rice and later copper to feed us."


Ní báyìí, pẹ̀lú “ìṣòwò àìbófinmu”-- ó ń ta bàtà, ṣúgà, ìrẹsì lẹ́yìn náà kọ́pà láti fi bọ́ wa.


In 2007, my sister and I decided to escape.


Ní ọdún 2007, èmi àti ọmọ ìyá mi lóbìnrin pinnu láti sálọ.


She was 16 years old, and I was 13 years old.


Ó jẹ́ ọmọ ọdún mẹ́rìn-dín-lógún, èmí sì jẹ́ ọmọ ọdún mẹ́tàlá.


"I need you to understand what the word ""escape"" means in the context of North Korea."


Mo nílò láti jẹ́ kí ẹ mọ nǹkan tí ọ̀rọ̀ yìí “sálọ” túmọ̀ sí ní ní ọ̀gangan ipò orílẹ̀-ède North Korea.


We were all starving, and hunger means death in North Korea.


Gbogbo wa ni ebi ń pa, ebí sì túmọ̀ sí ikú ní orílẹ̀-ède North Korea,


So it was the only option for us.


Ó jẹ́ àǹfààní kan ṣoṣo fún wa.


I didn't even understand the concept of escape, but I could see the lights from China at night, and I wondered if I go where the light is, I might be able to find a bowl of rice.


Mi ò ti lẹ̀ lóye nípa èrò sísálọ, ṣùgbọ́n mo máa ń rí àwọn iná náà láti China lálẹ́,  mo sì rò ó pé bóyá tí mo bá lọ síbi tí iná náà wà, mo lè rí abọ́ ìrẹsì kan.


It's not like we had a grand plan or maps.


Kì í ṣe wí pé a ní ìpinnu alágbára tàbí àwòrán kankan.


We did not know anything about what was going to happen.


A ò mọ nǹkankan nípa nǹkan tí yóò ṣẹlẹ̀.


Imagine your apartment building caught fire.


Ẹ wòye pé ilé ìgbe yín gbaná.


I mean, what would you do?


Mò ń sọ nípa pé, kí lẹ máa se?


Would you stay there to be burned, or would you jump off out of the window and see what happens?


Ṣé ẹ máa dùró síbẹ̀ kí ẹ jóná ni, àbi ṣé ẹ máa fò jáde kúrò látojú fèrèsé kí ẹ sì wá wo ohun tí yóó ṣelẹ̀?


That's what we did.


Nǹkan tí a ṣe nìyẹn.


We jumped out of the house instead of the fire.


A fò jáde kúrò nínú ilé náà dípò iná.


North Korea is unimaginable.


North Korea jẹ́ ibi tí ẹ ò leè ronú nípa rẹ̀.


It's very hard for me when people ask me what it feels like to live there.


Ó máa nira fún mi nígbà tí àwọn ènìyàn bá bi mí bó ṣe rí láti gbé nígbẹ̀.


To be honest, I tell you: you can't even imagine it.


Ká sọ tòótọ́, mo sọ fún yín: ẹ ò lè ronú nípa rẹ̀.


The words in any language can't describe, because it's a totally different planet, as you cannot imagine your life on Mars right now.


Àwọn ọ̀rọ̀ inú èyíkéyìí èdè ò lè ṣàpèjúwe rẹ̀, nítorí àgbáyé tó yátọ̀ pátápátá ni, bí ẹ ò ṣe lè ronú ìgbésíayé yín nínú Ìsọ̀ngbè-oòrùn-kẹ́rin lọ́wọ́lọ́wọ́ yìí.


"For example, the word ""love"" has only one meaning: love for the Dear Leader."


Fún àpẹẹrẹ, ọ̀rọ yìí “ìfẹ́” ní ìtumọ̀ kan ṣoṣo: ìfẹ́ fún adarí wa ọ̀wọ́n.


There's no concept of romantic love in North Korea.


Kò sí èrò ìfẹ́ ẹlẹ́yẹlé ní orílẹ̀-ède North Korea


And if you don't know the words, that means you don't understand the concept, and therefore, you don't even realize that concept is even a possibility.


Tí ẹ ò bá mọ àwọn ọ̀rọ náà, ìyẹ́n túmọ̀ sí wí pé èrò náà ò ye yín, nítorí náà, ẹ ò ní mọ̀ pé èrò yẹn gan-an jẹ́ a ṣe é ṣe.


Let me give you another example.


Ẹ jẹ́ kí n fún yín ní àpẹẹrẹ mìíràn.


Growing up in North Korea, we truly believed that our Dear Leader is an almighty god who can even read my thoughts.


Nígbà tí mò ń dàgbà ní orílẹ̀-ède North Korea, a nígbàgbọ́ lódodo wí pé adarí wa ọ̀wọ́n jẹ́ òòṣà tó lágbára tó lè mọ èro ọkàn wa.


I was even afraid to think in North Korea.


Èrú tún bàmí láti ronú nípa orílẹ̀-ède North Korea.


We are told that he's starving for us, and he's working tirelessly for us, and my heart just broke for him.


Wọ́n sọ fún wa pé ó ń f’ebi panú fún wa, ó sì ń ṣiṣẹ́ láìkáàrẹ̀ fún wa, ọkàn mí sì gbọgbẹ́ fún-un.


When I escaped to South Korea, people told me that he was actually a dictator, he had cars, many, many resorts, and he had an ultraluxurious life.


Nígbà tí mo sálọ sí orílẹ̀-ède South Korea, àwọn ènìyán sọ fún mi wí pé apàṣẹ wàá ni, ó ní àwọn ọkọ̀, oríṣiríṣi ilé-ìgbafẹ́, ó sì ń gbé ìgbeayé olówó ńlá.


And then I remember looking at a picture of him, realizing for the first time that he is the largest guy in the picture.


Nígbà náà ni mo bá rántí wíwo àwòran rẹ̀ kan, mímọ̀ fún ìgbà àkọ́kọ́ pé òun lẹni tó tóbi jù nínú àwòrán náà.


And it hit me.


Ló bá yémi.


Finally, I realized he wasn't starving.


Nígbẹ́yìn, mo mọ̀ wí pé ebi ò pa á.


But I was never able to see that before, until someone told me that he was fat.


Ṣùgbọ́n mi ò ní àǹfààní láti rí èyí tẹ́lẹ̀, àyàfi ìgbà tí ẹnìkan sọ fún mi wí pé òún sanra.


Really, someone had to teach me that he was fat.


Lóòótọ́, ẹnìkán ní láti kọ́ mi pé òún sanra.


If you have never practiced critical thinking, then you simply see what you're told to see.


Tí ẹ ò bà tíì ṣe ìfikọ́ra ìrònú jinlẹ̀ rí, nǹkan tí wọ́n bá ní kí ẹ rí lẹ máa rìí.


"The biggest question also people ask me is: ""Why is there no revolution inside North Korea?"


Ìbéèrè tó tóbi jù tí àwọn èniyàn máa ń bi mí ni: “Kí ló dé tí ò sí ìjàngbara nínú orílẹ̀-ède North Korea?


Are we dumb?


Ṣé odi niwá ni?


Why is there no revolution for 70 years of this oppression?


Kí ló dé tí ò sí ìjàngbara fún ìnira àádọ́rin ọdún yìí


""" And I say: If you don't know you're a slave, if you don't know you're isolated or oppressed, how do you fight to be free?"


“ Ti mo bá sọ wí pé: tí ẹ ò bá mọ̀ wí pé ẹrú niyín, tí ẹ ò bá mọ̀ wí pé wọ́n yà yín sọ́tọ̀ tàbí wọ́n ń fara niyín, báwo lẹ ṣe fẹ́ jà láti gba ìtúsílẹ̀?


I mean, if you know you're isolated, that means you are not isolated.


Mò ń sọ nípa pé, tí ẹ bá mọ̀ wí pé wọ́n yà yín sọ́tọ̀, ó túmọ̀ sí wí pé wọn ò yà yín sọ́tọ̀.


Not knowing is the true definition of isolation, and that's why I never knew I was isolated when I was in North Korea.


Àìmọ̀ ni ìtumọ̀ ìyanisọ́tọ̀ lódodo, ìdí nìyẹn tí mi ò fi mọ̀ wí pé wọ́n yàmí sọ́tọ̀ ni nígbà tí mo wà ní orílẹ̀-ède North Korea.


I literally thought I was in the center of the universe.


Mo rò wí pé mo wà láàrín-gbùgbun àgbáyé ni.


So here is my idea worth spreading: a lot of people think humans inherently know what is right and wrong, the difference between justice and injustice, what we deserve and we don't deserve.


Èrò mi tó yẹ fún ìfọ́nká rè é: ọ̀pọ̀lọpọ̀ àwọn ènìyán rò wí pé ọmọ ènìyàn mọ nǹkan tó yẹ àti èyí tó burú jáì, ìyàtọ̀ tó wà láàárín ìṣedédé àti àìṣedédé, nǹkan tó tọ́ síwa àti nǹkan tí ò tọ́ síwa.


I tell them: BS.


Mo sọ fún wọn: BS.


Everything, everything must be taught, including compassion.


Gbogbo ẹ̀, gbogbo ẹ̀ gbọ́dọ̀ di kíkọ́, tó fi kan àánú.


If I see someone dying on the street right now, I will do anything to save that person.


Bí mo bá rí enìkan tó ń kú lọ láàárín adúgbò nísìyìí, mà á ṣe ohun-kóhun láti dóòlà ẹni náà.


But when I was in North Korea, I saw people dying and dead on the streets.


Ṣùgbọ́n nígbà ti mo wà ní orílẹ̀-ède North Korea, mo rí àwọn ènìyàn tí wọ́n ń kú àti òkú káàkiri àdúgbò.


I felt nothing.


Mi ò ní ìmọ̀lára kankan.


Not because I'm a psychopath, but because I never learned the concept of compassion.


Kìí ṣe nítorí mo jẹ́ ọlọ́dẹ-orí, ṣùgbọ́n nítorí mi ò kẹ́kọ̀ọ́ nípa èrò ìkáànú rí.


"Only, I felt compassion, empathy and sympathy in my heart after I learned the word ""compassion"" and the concept, and I feel them now."


Mo ní ìmọ̀láa àánú, ìbánikẹ́dùn àti ìkáànú nínú ọkàn mi lẹ́yìn ìgbà tí mo kọ́ nípa ọ̀rọ̀ yìí “àánú” àti èro rẹ̀ nìkan, mo sì ní ìmọ̀lára wọn báyìí.


Now I live in the United States as a free person.


Ní báyìí mò ń gbé ní orílẹ̀-ède United State gẹ́gẹ́ bi olómìnira ènìyàn.


And recently, the leader of the free country, our President Trump, met with my former god.


Láìpẹ́ yìí, àwọn adarí orílẹ̀-èdè olómìnira, Ààrẹ wa Trump, ṣe ìpàdé pẹ̀lú òòsa mi tẹ́lẹ̀.


And he decided human rights is not important enough to include in his agendas, and he did not talk about it.


Ó sì pinnu pé ẹ̀tọ ọmọ ènìyàn ò ṣe pàtàkì tó láti fi kún ìpinnu rẹ̀, kò sì sọ̀rọ̀ nípa rẹ̀.


And it scares me.


Ó bà mí lẹ́rù.


We live in a world right now where a dictator can be praised for executing his uncle, for killing his half brother, killing thousands of North Koreans.


Lọ́wọ́lọ́wọ́ yìí à ń gbé nínú ayé níbi tí wọ́n ti lè gbóríyìn fún apàṣe-wàá kan pé ó pa ọmọ ìya bàba rẹ̀ lọ́kùrin, fún pípa ọmọ ìyàwo bàba rẹ̀, pípa ẹgbẹ̀rún àwọn ọmọ orílẹ̀-ède North korea.


And that was worthy of praise.


Ìyẹn sì tó nǹkan à ń gbóríyìn fún.


And also it made me think: perhaps we all need to be taught something new about freedom now.


Bákan náà ó múmi ronú: bóyá gbogbo wa la nílò láti kọ́ nǹkan tuntun nípa òmìnira báyìí.


Freedom is fragile.


Nǹkan ẹlẹgẹ́ ni òmìnira


I don't want to alarm you, but it is.


Mi ò fẹ́ fun yín lára, ṣùgbọ́n bẹ́ẹ̀ ni.


"It only took three generations to make North Korea into George Orwell's ""1984."


Ìran mẹ́ta péré ló gbà láti sọ orílẹ̀-ède North Korea di “1984 ti Goorge Orwell


""" It took only three generations."


Ìran mẹ́ta péré ló gbà.


If we don't fight for human rights for the people who are oppressed right now who don't have a voice, as free people here, who will fight for us when we are not free?


Bí a ò bá jà fún ètọ ọmọnìyàn fún àwọn ènìyàn tí wọ́n ń fìyà jẹ lọ́wọ́lọ́wọ́ yìí tí wọn ò lè fohùn, gẹ́gẹ́ bí àwọn ènìyàn tí wọ́n lómìnira níbí, ta ló máa jà fún wa nígbà tí a ò bá ní òmìnira?


I don't know.


Mi ò mọ̀.


I think it's wonderful that we care about climate change, animal rights, gender equality, all of these things.


Mo rò wí pé ó dára pé a káràmásìkí mọ́ àyípadà ojú-ọjọ́, ẹ̀tọ́ ẹranko, ìṣedédé láàárín akọ àti abo, gbogbo àwọn nǹkan wọ̀nyí.


The fact that we care about animals' rights, that means that's how beautiful our heart is, that we care about someone who cannot speak for themselves.


Òtítọ́ pé a káràmásìki nípa ẹ̀tọ́ ẹranko, ìyẹ́n túmọ̀ sí wí pé bí ọkàn wa ṣe rewà sí nìyẹn, pé a káràmásìkí nípa enìkan tí ò le fi ẹnu arawọn sọ̀rọ̀.


And North Koreans right now cannot speak for themselves.


Àwọn ọmọ ilẹ̀ North Korea ò lè fi ẹnu arawọn sọ̀rọ̀ lọ́wọ́lọ́wọ́ yìí.


They don't have internet in the 21st century.


Wọn ò ní ẹ̀rọ-ayélukára-bí-ajere ní ọ̀rún ọdún kọkàn-lé-lógún.


We don't have electricity, and it is the darkest place on earth right now.


A ò ní iná mọ̀nàmọ́ná, òhun sì ni àyè tó ṣókùnkùn jù lórí ilẹ̀ eèpẹ̀ lọ́wọ́lọ́wọ́ yìí.


Now I want to say something to my fellow North Koreans who are living in that darkness.


Báyìí mo fẹ́ sọ nǹkankan fún àwọn tí a jìjọ jẹ́ ọmọ ilẹ̀ North Korea tí wọ́n ń gbé nínú òkùkùn yẹn.


They might not believe this, but I want to tell them that an alternative life is possible.


Wọ́n lè má gba èyí gbọ́, ṣùgbọ́n mo fẹ́ sọ fún wọn pé ìpààrọ ìgbésí-ayé ṣe é ṣe.


Be free.


Ẹ gba ìtúsílẹ̀


From my experience, literally anything is possible.


Látara ìrírí mi, gbogbo nǹkan ló ṣe é ṣe.


I was bought, I was sold as a slave.


Wón rà mí, wọ́n tà mí gẹ́gẹ́ bí ẹrú.


But now I'm here, and that is why I believe in miracles.


Ṣùgbọ́n ní báyìí mo ti wà níbí, ìyẹn ló sì fà á tí mo fi nígbàgbọ́ nínú iṣẹ́-ìyanu.


The one thing that I learned from history is that nothing is forever in this world.


Nǹkan kan tí mo kọ́ nínú ìtàn ni wí pé kò sí nǹkankan tó lọ títí nínú ayé yìí.


And that is why we have every reason to be hopeful.


Ìdí nìyẹn tí a fi ní gbogbo ẹ̀tọ́ láti ní ìrètí.


Medical tech designed to meet Africa's needs


Ìmọ̀-ẹ̀rọ ìṣègùn tí wọ́n ṣẹ̀dá láti pèse ohun tí ilẹ̀ Adúláwò nílò.


Like every passionate software engineer out there, I closely follow technology companies in Silicon Valley, pretty much the same way soccer fans follow their teams in Europe.


Bíi gbogbo onímọ̀-ẹ̀rọ nípa ohun-èlo ẹ̀rọ-ayárabíàṣá tí ò ṣe é fọwọ́ kàn tí wọ́n wà níta níbẹ̀ yẹn, mo máa ń tẹ̀lé alwọn ilé-iṣẹ́ ìmọ̀-ẹ̀rọ ní Silicon Valley típẹ́-típẹ́, ní ọ̀nà kan náà tí àwọn olólùfẹ́ eré bólù aláfẹsẹ̀gbá ṣe ń tẹ̀lé ikọ̀ wọn nílẹ̀ Europe.


I read articles on tech blogs and listen to podcasts on my phone.


Mo máa ń ka àròkọ lórí ìkànnì ìmọ̀-ẹ̀rọ mo sì máa ń tẹ́ti sí àkáálẹ̀ ẹ̀rọ-agbagbe lórí ẹ̀rọ-ìbánisọ̀rọ̀ mi.


But after I finish the article, lock my phone and unplug the headphones, I'm back in sub-Saharan Africa, where the landscape is not quite the same.


Ṣùgbọ́n lẹ́yìn tí mo bá parí átíkù náà, tí mo ti ẹ̀rọ-ìbánisọ̀rọ̀ mi tí mo sì yọ àgbékarí, mo ti padà sí ìwò oòrun ilẹ̀ Adúláwò, níbi ti ààla-ilẹ̀ ò ti jọra wọn.


We have long and frequent power outages, low penetration of computers, slow internet connections and a lot of patients visiting understaffed hospitals.


Iná máa ń lọ fún ìgbà pípé lọ́pọ̀-ìgbà, àìlo ẹ̀rọ-ayárabíàṣá púpọ̀, ìkàni ayélukára tí ò yára àti ọ̀pọ̀lọpọ̀ àwọn aláìsàn tí wọ́n lọ sílé ìwòsàn tí kò sí òṣìṣẹ́ púpọ̀.


Since the HIV epidemic, hospitals have been struggling to manage regular HIV treatment records for increasing volumes of patients.


Látìgbà àjàkálẹ̀ àrun kòkòro apa òkì àjẹsára àìfààyègba-àìsàn ara, àwọn ilé ìwòsàn tí ń tiraka láti ṣàmójútó àkọsílẹ̀ ìtọ́jú kòkòro apa sójà ara lóòrèkóòrè fún àlékún abala àwọn aláìsàn.


For such environments, importing technology systems developed elsewhere has not worked, but in 2006, I joined Baobab Health, a team that uses locally based engineers to develop suitable interventions that are addressing health care challenges in Malawi.


Fún irú àwùjọ bẹ́ẹ̀, gbigbé èto ìmọ̀-ẹ̀rọ tí wọ́n ṣẹ̀dá níbòmíràn ò tíì ṣiṣẹ́, ṣùgbọ́n ní ọdún 2006, mo darapọ̀ mọ́ Baoba Health, ikọ̀ kan tó máa ń lo àwọn onímọ̀-ẹ̀rọ lábẹ́lé láti ṣẹ̀da àwọn ìdásí tó yẹ tí wọ́n ń yanjú àwọn ìdojúkọ ajẹmọ ìtọ́jú ní orílẹ̀-ède Malawi


We designed an electronic health record system that is used by health care workers while seeing patients.


A ṣẹ̀da ẹ̀rọ tó ń ṣe àkọsílẹ̀ ìlera onínọ́ tí àwọn òṣìṣẹ́ ìlera ń lò nígbà tí wọ́n bá ń rí àwọn aláìsàn.


And in the process we realized that we not only had to design the software, we had to implement the infrastructure as well.


Nínú ìgbésẹ̀ náà a mọ̀ pé a ò ní láti ṣẹ̀da ohun-èlo ẹ̀rọ-ayárabíàṣá tí ò ṣe é fọwọ́ kàn nìkan, a ní láti ṣàmúlò ohun amáyédẹrùn náà bákan náà.


We don't have enough medical staff to comprehensively examine every patient, so we embedded clinical guidelines within the software to guide nurses and clerks who assist with handling some of the workload.


A ò ní àwọn òṣìṣẹ́ ìlera tó tó láti ṣe àyèwò tó péye fún gbogbo aláìsàn, nítorí náà a ṣe àfibọ̀ ìlànà-ìtọ́sánà ajẹmọ́ ìtọ́jú sínu ohun-èlo ẹ̀rọ-ayárabíàṣá tí ò ṣe é fọwọ́ kàn náà láti ṣe ìtọ́sánà àwọn olùtọ́-ilé-ìwòsàn àti àwọn akọ̀wé tí wọ́n ń ṣe ìrànlọ́wọ́ pẹ̀lú ìmójútó díẹ̀ nínú àwọn iṣẹ́ náà.


Everyone has a birthday, but not everyone knows their birthday, so we wrote algorithms to handle estimated birthdates as complete dates.


Gbogbo wa la ní ọjọ́ ìbí, ṣùgbọ́n kìí ṣe gbogbo ènìyàn ló mọ ọjọ́ ìbi wọn, nítorí náà a kọ àwọn ètò láti mójútó àpapọ̀ àwọn ọjọ́ ìbí gẹ́gẹ́ bi déétì tó pé.


How do we follow up patients living in slums with no street and house numbers?


Báwo la ó ṣe ṣe ìtẹ̀lé àwọn aláìsàn tí wọ́n ń gbé ní àdúgbò elérò tí ò ní nọ́mbà àdúgbò àti ilé?


We used landmarks to approximate their physical addresses.


A lo ààla-ilẹ̀ láti ṣe àròpọ̀ àdírẹ́sì àfojúrí wọn.


Malawi had no IDs to uniquely identify patients, so we had to implement unique patient IDs to link patient records across clinics.


Orílẹ̀-ède Malawi ò ní ID láti ṣe ìdánimọ̀ àwọn aláìsàn yàtọ̀, nítorí náà a ní láti ṣàmúlò ID àwọn aláìsàn tó yátọ̀ láti ṣe àsopọ̀ àkọsílẹ̀ àwọn aláìsàn jákèjádò àwọn ilé ìtọ́jú.


The IDs are printed as barcodes on labels that are stuck on personal health booklets kept by each patient.


A ṣe àtẹ̀jáde àwọn ID náà gẹ́gẹ́ bi ẹ̀nà onílà òòró tí wọ́n lè mọ́ àwọn ìwé ìlera àdáni tí aláìsàn kọ̀ọ̀kan ń tọ́jú.


With this barcoded ID, a simple scan with a barcode reader quickly pulls up the patient's records.


Pẹ̀lú ID tó ní ẹ̀nà onílà òòró yìí, ìfojúwò gara tíò le pẹ̀lú ẹ̀rọ tó ń ka ẹ̀nà onílà òòró yóò tètè gbé àkọsílẹ̀ aláìsàn náà síta.


No need to rewrite their personal details on paper registers at every visit.


Wọn ò nílò láti ṣe àtúnkọ àlàyé nípa ara wọn sóri ewé ìforúkọsílẹ̀ ní gbogbo ìgbà tí wọ́n bá wá.


And suddenly, queues became shorter.


Lójijì, àwọn ilà-ìtò bá di kúkurú


This meant patients, typically mothers with little children on their backs, had to spend less time waiting to be assisted.


Èyí túmọ̀ sí wí pé àwọn aláìsàn, àwọn ìyá tí wọ́n lọ́mọ lẹ́yìn wọn nìkan, yóò lo àsìkò díẹ̀ ní ìdúró de ìrànlọ́wọ́


And if they lose their booklets, their records can still be pulled by searching with their names.


Bí wọ́n bá ṣe àfẹ́kù ìwe wọn, àkọsílẹ̀ wọn ṣì lè di gbígbà pẹ̀lú wíwá orúkọ wọn.


Now, the way we pronounce and spell names varies tremendously.


Ní báyìí, ònà tí à ń gbà pè àti kọ orúkọ yátọ̀ gidi gan-an.


We freely mix R's and L's, English and vernacular versions of their names.


A ṣe àdàpọ̀ R àti L láìsídìwọ́, ẹ̀dà ède gẹ̀ẹ́sì àti ède abínibí àwọn orúkọ wọn.


Even soundex, a standard method for grouping words by how similar they sound, was not good enough.


Kódà ìjọra-ìró, ìlànà àwòkọ́ṣe fún ìpín-sísọ̀rí àwọn ọ̀rọ̀ pẹ̀lú bí wọ́n ṣe jọra ní ìró, kò dára tó.


So we had to modify it to help us link and match existing records.


Nítorí náà a ní láti ṣe àtúnṣe sí i láti lè bá wa ṣe àsopọ̀ àti ìbámu àwọn àkọsílẹ̀ tó ti wà tẹ́lẹ̀.


Before the iPhone, software engineers developed for personal computers, but from our experience, we knew our power system is not reliable enough for personal computers.


Ṣíwájú iPhone, àwọn onímọ̀-ẹ̀rọ nípa ohun-èlo ẹ̀rọ-ayárabíàṣá tí ò ṣe é fọwọ́ kàn ṣẹ̀da rẹ̀ fún ẹ̀rọ-ayárabíàṣá àdáni, ṣùgbọ́n látara ìrírí wa, a mọ̀ pé èto agbára wa ò ṣe é gbáralé fún ẹ̀rọ-ayárabíàṣá àdáni.


So we repurposed touch screen point-of-sale terminals that are meant for retail shops to become clinical workstations.


Nítorí náà a ṣe àmúyẹ àwọn ẹ̀rọ ibi-ìtajà agbàwòrán-tàn-aláfọwọ́tẹ̀ tí wọ́n wà fún àwọn ìsọ̀ alárà-tún-tà láti di ẹ̀rọ-iṣẹ́ ajẹmọ́wòsàn.


At the time, we imported internet appliances called i-Openers that were manufactured during the dot-com era by a failed US company.


Ní àsìkò náà, a ṣe ìkówọlé àwọn ohun-èlò ayélukára-bí-ajere tí wọ́n pè ní i-Opener tí wọ́n ṣe sànmání ìtakùn ẹ̀rọ ayélukára-bí-ajere àmì ti ìṣe òwò ní ilé-iṣẹ́ kan tí ó fìdí rẹmi ní orílẹ̀-ède US.


We modified their screens to add touch sensors and their power system to run from rechargeable batteries.


A ṣe àtúnṣe àtẹ agbàwòrán tàn wọn láti ṣe àfikún iyè ìfọwọ́kàn àti èto agbára-mànàmáná wọn láti lè ṣiṣẹ́ lára òkúta-agbagbará-iná-àsọdọ̀tun.


When we started, we didn't find a reliable network to transmit data, especially from rural hospitals.


Nígbà tí a bẹ̀rẹ̀, a ò rí ojú-òpó-ìsopọ̀ ayélukára-bí-ajere tó ṣe é gbáralé láti ta àtagbà ìwífún-alálàyé, pàápàá jùlọ láti àwọn ilé-ìwòsàn tí wọ́n wà ní ìgbèríko.


So we built our own towers, created a wireless network and linked clinics in Lilongwe, Malawi's capital.


Nítorí náà a kọ́ ilé-agbára tiwa, a ṣẹ̀dá àwọn òpó-ìsopọ̀ ayélukára-bí-ajere àìlokùn-agbé-òyì-iná tí a sì so ilé-ìwòsàn alábọ́dé ní Lilongwe, olú ìlu orílẹ̀-ède Malawi pọ̀.


With a team of engineers working within a hospital campus, we observed health care workers use the system and iteratively build an information system that is now managing HIV records in all major public hospitals in Malawi.


Pẹ̀lú ikọ̀ àwọn onímọ̀-ẹ̀rọ tí wọ́n ń ṣiṣẹ́ láàárín ọgbà ilé-ìwòsàn kan, a ṣe àkíyèsí wí pé àwọn òṣìṣẹ́ ìlera ń lo ètò náà wọ́n sì ń ṣẹ̀da ètò ìfitóni t’ó ń ṣe àmójútó àkọsílẹ̀ HIV báyìí ní gbogbo àwọn ilé-ìwòsàn gbogbogbò t’ó tóbi jù ní orílẹ̀-ède Malawi.


These are hospitals serving over 2,000 HIV patients, each clinic.


Àwọn wọ̀nyí ni ilé-ìwòsàn tí ń ṣe ìtọ́jú àwọn aláìsan HIV tí ó lé ní ẹgbẹ̀rún méjì, ní ibi ilé-ìwòsàn kọ̀ọ̀kan.


Now, health care workers who used to spend days to tally and prepare quarterly reports are producing the same reports within minutes, and health care experts from all over the world are now coming to Malawi to learn how we did it.


Ní báyìí, àwọn òṣìṣẹ́ ìlera tí wọ́n máa lo àìmọye ọjọ́ láti ṣe àpapọ̀ àti láti ṣèto ìjábọ̀ olóṣù mẹ́ta-mẹ́ta ń ṣe ìjábọ̀ kan náà láàárín ìṣẹ́jú díẹ̀, àwọn àgbà-ọ̀jẹ̀ oníṣẹ́-ìlera káàkiri àgbáyé ti ń wá sí orílẹ̀-ède Malawi láti kọ́ nípa bí a ṣe ṣe é.


It is inspiring and fun to follow technology trends across the globe, but to make them work in low-resourced environments like public hospitals in sub-Saharan Africa, we have had to become jacks-of-all-trades and build whole systems, including the infrastructure, from the ground up.


Ó máa wúni lórí ó sì máa ń dùn mọ́ni láti tẹ̀ sí ibi tí àwọn ìmọ̀-ẹ̀rọ ń tẹ̀ sí káàkiri àgbáyé, ṣùgbọ́n láti lè jẹ́ kí wọ́n ṣiṣẹ́ ní àwọn agbègbè bíi Gúúsù aṣálẹ̀ Ilẹ̀-Adúláwọ̀ tí wọn ò fi bẹ́ẹ̀ ni ohun èlò ilé-ìwòsan gbogbogbò, a ní láti di gbogbo-lòwò k’á sì kọ́ ṣe àwọn ètò gbogbo, t’ó fi kan ohun amáyédẹrùn náà, láti ilẹ̀ pẹ̀pẹ̀.


What's missing from the American immigrant narrative


Kí ló sọnù nínú ìtan àwọn aṣíkiri-lọ-sí-ìlú-mìíràn ilẹ̀ America


Hi, everyone, my name is Elizabeth, and I work on the trading floor.


Ẹ ǹlẹ́, gbogbo ènìyàn, orúkọ mi ni Elizabeth, mo sì ń ṣiṣẹ́ ní àjà ìṣòwò.


But I'm still pretty new to it.


Ṣùgbọ́n ojú mi ò tíì ṣálẹ̀ sí i dáadáa.


I graduated from college about a year and a half ago, and to be quite honest, I'm still recovering from the recruiting process I had to go through to get here.


Mo kẹ́kọ̀ọ́ jáde nílé-ẹ̀kọ́ ní bíi odún kan àbọ̀ sẹ́yìn, k’á sì sọ òtítọ́, mo sì ń padà bọ̀ sípò látàrí ìgbésẹ̀ ìgbaniwọlé tí mo ní láti là kọjá láti débí.


Now, I don't know about you, but this is the most ridiculous thing that I still remember about the whole process, was asking insecure college students what their biggest passion was.


Ní báyìí, mi ò mọ tiyín, ṣùgbọ́n èyí ni nǹkan tó burú jù tí mo ṣì ń rántí nípa gbogbo ìgbésẹ̀ náà, mò ń bèrè lọ́wọ́ àwọn akẹ́kọ̀ọ́ tí ọkàn wọn ò balẹ̀ ohun tí ìfẹ́ gidigidi wọn t’ó tóbi jù jẹ́.


Like, do you expect me to have an answer for that?


Bíi, ṣé e ń retí kí n ní ìdáhùn fún ìyẹn?


Of course I did.


Bẹ́ẹ̀ni mo níi.


And to be quite honest, I really showed those recruiters just how passionate I was by telling them all about my early interest in the global economy, which, conveniently, stemmed from the conversations that I would overhear my immigrant parents having about money and the fluctuating value of the Mexican peso.


Kín ṣọ òtítọ́, mo fi han àwọn agbaniwọlé wọ̀nyẹn irú ìfẹ́ tí mo ní pẹ̀lú sísọ fún wọn nípa ìfẹ́ àtilẹ̀wá mi nínú ọrọ̀-ajé àgbáyé, tí, pẹ̀lú ìrọ̀rùn, ó ṣẹ́yọ látara àsọgbà tí mo máa ń gbọ́ tí àwọn òbí mi tí wọ́n jẹ́ aṣíkiri máa ń ṣe nípa owó àti àìṣedédé ìwúlò owó peso orílẹ̀-ède Mexico.


They love a good personal story.


Wọ́n fẹ́ràn ìtan ara ẹni t’ó dára.


But you know what?


Ṣùgbọ́n ṣé ẹ mọ nǹkan?


I lied.


Mo parọ́.


And not because the things I said weren't true -- I mean, my parents were talking about this stuff.


Kì í ṣe nítorí àwọn nǹkan tí mo sọ kì í ṣe ododo -- mò ń sọ nípa pé, àwọn òbí mi ń sọ̀rọ̀ nípa kiní yìí.


But that's not really why I decided to jump into finance.


Ṣùgbọ́n nǹkan t’ó mú mi pinnu láti ta kọ́sọ́sọ́ sí ìsúná gangan kọ́ nìyẹn.


I just really wanted to pay my rent.


Mo kọ̀ fẹ́ san owó ilé mi lásán ni.


And here's the thing.


Nǹkan náà rèé.


The reality of having to pay my rent and do real adult things is something that we're rarely willing to admit to employers, to others and even to ourselves.


Òótọ́ nípa sísan owó ilé mi kín sì ṣe àwọn nǹkan agbàlagbà tòótọ́ jẹ́ nǹkan tí a ò férẹ̀ nífẹ̀ sí láti sọ fún àwọn olùgbanisíṣẹ́, fún àwọn tókù àti fún ara wa bákan náà.


I know I wasn't about to tell my recruiters that I was there for the money.


Mo mọ̀ wí pé mi ò ṣetán láti sọ fún olùgbanisíṣẹ́ mi pé torí owó ni mo ṣe wá síbẹ̀.


And that's because for the most part, we want to see ourselves as idealists and as people who do what they believe in and pursue the things that they find the most exciting.


Ìdi rẹ̀ sì ni wí pé fún ẹ̀yà tó pọ́jù, a fẹ́ rí ara wa gẹ́gẹ́ bi oníròrí àti bí ènìyàn tó mọ nǹkan tó nígbàgbọ́ nínú rẹ̀ tó sì ń ṣiṣẹ́ tọ àwọn nǹkan tó máa ń dùn wọ́n nínú jù.


But the reality is very few of us actually have the privilege to do that.


Ṣùgbọ́n òtítọ́ ni wí pé díẹ̀ nínú wa ló ní àǹfààní láti ṣe ìyẹn.


Now, I can't speak for everyone, but this is especially true for young immigrant professionals like me.


Ní báyìí, mi ò le sọ ti gbogbo ènìyàn, ṣùgbọ́n èyí jẹ́ pàáp̀àá òtítọ́ fún ọ̀dọ́ akọṣẹ́mọṣẹ́ aṣíkiri bíi tèmi.


And the reason this is true has something to do with the narratives that society has kept hitting us with in the news, in the workplace and even by those annoyingly self-critical voices in our heads.


Ìdí tí èyí fi jẹ́ òdodo ní nǹkan ṣe pẹ̀lú àwọn ìtàn tí àwùjọ ti fín gbá wa nínú ìròyìn, níbi iṣẹ́ àti àwọn ohùn líle tó ń bíni nínú wọ̀nyẹn nínú orí wa.


So what narratives am I referring to?


Torí náà ìtàn wo ni mò ń tọ́ka sí?


Well, there's two that come to mind when it comes to immigrants.


Ó dáa, awọn méjì kan máa ń wá sórí ẹ̀mí tí ó bá di ọ̀rọ̀ àwọn aṣíkiri.


The first is the idea of the immigrant worker.


Àkọ́kọ́ ni èrò nípa àwọn òṣìṣẹ́ aṣíkiri.


You know, people that come to the US in search of jobs as laborers, or field workers, dish washers.


Ẹ mọ̀, àwọn ènìyàn tí wọ́n máa ń wá iṣẹ́ wá sí orílẹ̀-ède US gẹ́gẹ́ bi lébírà, tàbí òsìṣẹ́ orí oko, afọbọ́.


You know, things that we might consider low-wage jobs but the immigrants?


Ẹ mọ̀, àwọn nǹkan tí àwá lè rí gẹ́gẹ́ bi iṣẹ́ tí owó-iṣẹ́ rẹ̀ kéré ṣùgbọ́n àwọn aṣíkiri?


That's a good opportunity.


Àǹfààní gidi nìyẹn.


The news nowadays has convoluted that whole thing quite a bit.


Àwọn ìròyìn lásíkò yìí ti sọ gbobo nǹkan yẹn di àmúdijú díẹ̀.


You could say that it's made America's relationship with immigrants complicated.


Ẹ lè sọ wí pé ó ti jẹ́ kí àjọṣepọ̀ láàárín àwọn ọmọ ilẹ̀ America àti àwọn aṣíkiri di àmúdijú.


And as immigrant expert George Borjas would have put it, it's kind of like America wanted workers, but then, they got confused when we got people instead.


Gẹ́gẹ́ bí àgbà-ọ̀jẹ̀ nípa àwọn aṣíkiri George Borjas yóò ti ṣe sọ ọ́, ó dàbi ẹni pé ilẹ̀ America fẹ́ àwọn òṣìṣẹ́, ṣùgbọ́n síbẹ̀, ó dàrú mọ́wọn lójú nígbà tí wọ́n rí àwọn ènìyàn dípò bẹ́ẹ̀.


I mean, it's natural that people want to strive to put a roof over their heads and live a normal life, right?


Mò ń sọ nípa pé, abínibí ni pé àwọn ènìyàn fẹ́ tirika láti nílé lórí kí wọ́n sì gbé ìgbeayé gidi, àbí?


So for obvious reasons, this narrative has been driving me a little bit crazy.


Fún àwọn ìdí tó fojú hàn, ìtàn yìí ti ń sín mi níwín díẹ̀.


But it's not the only one.


Ṣùgbọ́n kì í ṣe òhun nìkan.


The other narrative that I'm going to talk about is the idea of the superimmigrant.


Ìtàn mìíràn tí màá sọ nípa rẹ̀ jẹ́ nípa èrò àwọn aṣíkíri-alágbára.


In America, we love to idolize superimmigrants as the ideal symbols of American success.


Ní ilẹ̀ America, a fẹ́ràn láti sọ àwọn aṣíkiri-alágbára di òòṣà-àkúnlẹ̀bọ gẹ́gẹ́ bi àrokò tó yẹ fún àṣeyọrí ilẹ̀ America.


I grew up admiring superimmigrants, because their existence fueled my dreams and it gave me hope.


Mo dagbà lẹ́ni tó ń nífẹ̀ sí àwọn aṣíkiri-alágbára, nítorí ìṣẹ̀mi wọn ṣe ìrànwọ́ fún àlá mi ó sì fúnmi nírètí.


The problem with this narrative is that it also seems to cast a shadow on those that don't succeed or that don't make it in that way, as less than.


Ìṣòro tó wà pẹ̀lú ìtàn yìí ni wí pé ó tún dàbi ẹni pé wọ́n ń ṣọ́ àwọn tí wọn ò láṣeyọrí tàbí tí wọn ò rí ṣe lọ́nà yẹn.


And for years, I got caught up in the ways in which it seemed to celebrate one type of immigrant while villainizing the other.


Fún àìmọye ọdún, mo bára mi ní àwọn ọ̀nà tó dàbi ẹni pé wọ́n ń gbóríyìn fún aṣíkiri kan nígbà tí wọ́n sọ ìkejì dí aṣebi.


I mean, were my parents' sacrifices not enough?


Mò ń sọ nípa pé, ṣé ìfarajìn àwọn òbí mi ò tó ni?


Was the fact that my dad came home from the metal factory covered in corrosive dust, was that not super?


Ṣé ọ̀títọ́ pé bàbá mi wálé láti ilé-iṣọ̀pọ̀ àlùrọ tí eruku àlùrọ bòó, ṣé ìyẹn ò lágbára tó?


Don't get me wrong, I've internalized both of these narratives to some degree, and in many ways, seeing my heroes succeed, it has pushed me to do the same.


Ẹ má ṣìmí gbọ́, mo ti ro ìtàn méjééjì dé ìpele kan, ní ọ̀nà tó pọ̀, rírí àṣeyọrí àwọn akọni mi, ó ti tìmí láti ṣe bẹ́ẹ̀.


But both of these narratives are flawed in the ways in which they dehumanize people if they don't fit within a certain mold or succeed in a certain way.


Ṣùgbọ́n àwọn ìtàn méjéjì yìí ní akùdé ní àwọn ọ̀nà tí wọ́n fi ń ba ìjẹ́ ọmọ ènìyàn àwọn èyàn jẹ́ tí wọn ò bá yẹ ní ìmọ kan tàbí ní àwọn ọ̀nà kan


"And this really affected my self-image, because I started to question these ideas for who my parents were and who I was, and I started to wonder, ""Am I doing enough to protect my family and my community from the injustices that we felt every day?"


Èyí sì ti ṣàkóbá fún àwòran ara mi, nítorí mo bẹrẹ̀ síní tako àwọn èrò wọ̀nyí nítorí irú ẹnìyàn tí àwọn òbí mi jẹ́ àti ẹni tí mo jẹ́, mo bẹ̀rẹ̀ síní rò ó, “Ṣé mò ń ṣe tó láti dáààbòbo ẹbí mi àti àwùjọ mi lọ́wọ́ àìṣedédé tí à ń ní lójoojúmọ́?


""" So why did I choose to ""sell out"" while watching tragedies unfold right in front of me?"


“ Kí ló dé tí mo yàn láti “tà” nígbà tí mò ń wo wàhálà bó ṣe ń ṣẹlẹ̀ níwájú mi?


Now, it took me a long time to come to terms with my decisions.


Ní báyìí, ó gbàmí lásíkò púpọ̀ láti ṣe àdéhùn pẹ̀lú ìpinnu mi.


And I really have to thank the people running the Hispanic Scholarship Fund, or HSF, for validating this process early on.


Mo ní láti dúpẹ́ lọ́wọ́ àwọn ènìyàn tí wọ́n ń ṣe agbátẹrù Etò Ẹ̀kọ́ Òfẹ́ Hispanic, tàbí HSF, fún ìfọwọ́sí ìgbésẹ̀ yìí láti ìbẹ̀rẹ̀.


And the way that HSF -- an organization that strives to help students achieve higher education through mentorship and scholarships -- the way that they helped calm my anxiety, it was by telling me something super familiar.


Àti ọ̀nà tí HSF -- àjọ kan tó ń tiraka láti ran àwọn akẹ́kọ̀ọ́ lọ́wọ́ láti ṣe àṣeyọrí ilé-ẹ̀kọ́ gíga nípasẹ̀ ìgbani nímọ́ràn àti ètò ẹ̀kọ́ ọ̀fẹ́ -- ọ̀nà tí wọ́n ti gbà láti ṣe ìsilẹ̀ ààbalẹ̀-ọkàn, pẹ̀lú sísọ nǹkan tó tó jọ ọ́ gidi gan-gan.


Something that you all probably have heard before in the first few minutes after boarding a flight.


Nǹkan tí ẹ lérò pé ẹ ti gbọ́ tẹ́lẹ̀ ní ìṣẹ̀jú díẹ̀ àkọ́kọ́ lẹ́yìn tí ẹ ti wọ ọkọ̀ òfuurufú.


In case of an emergency, put your oxygen mask on first before helping those around you.


Fún ìṣẹ̀lẹ pàjáwírì, ẹ kọ́kọ́ wọ ìbòjú èémí-àmísínú yin ná kí ẹ tó máa ran àwọn tí wọ́n rọkiriká yín lọ́wọ́.


Now I understand that this means different things to different people.


Báyìí ó yémi pé èyí túmọ̀ sí oríṣiríṣi nǹkan sí oríṣiríṣi ènìyàn.


But for me, it meant that immigrants couldn't and would never be able to fit into any one narrative, because most of us are actually just traveling along a spectrum, trying to survive.


Ṣùgbọ́n fún èmi, ó túmọ̀ sí wí pé àwọn aṣíkiri ò lè wọn ò sì ní yẹ nínú ìtàn Kankan láyéláye, nítorí ọ̀pọ̀lọpọ̀ wa kọ̀ ń bá afẹ́fẹ́ rìn ni, à sì ń gbìyànjú láti yè.


And although there may be people that are further along in life with their oxygen mask on and secured in place, there are undoubtedly going to be others that are still struggling to put theirs on before they can even think about helping those around them.


Bó tilẹ̀ jẹ́ wí pé àwọn ènìyàn lè wà tí wọ́n ti lọ síwájú láyé pẹ̀lú ìbòjú èémí-àmísínú wọn tí wọ́n sì farapamọ́ sáyè kan, ó dájú wí pé àwọn mìíràn yóò wà tí wọ́n ṣì ń tiraka láti wọ tiwọn kí wọ́n tiẹ̀ tó ronú nípa ríran àwọn tí wọ́n rọkiriká wọn lọ́wọ́.


Now, this lesson really hit home for me, because my parents, while they wanted us to be able to take advantage of opportunities in a way that we wouldn't have been able to do so anywhere else -- I mean, we were in America, and so as a child, this made me have these crazy, ambitious and elaborate dreams for what my future could look like.


Báyìí, ẹ̀kọ́ yìí ṣiṣẹ́ fún mi, nítorí awọn òbí mi, nígbà tí àwọ́n ń fẹ́ kí a lè ṣàmúlò àwọn àǹfààní ní ọ̀nà tí a ò ní àǹfààní láti ṣe irú rẹ̀ rí nibò mìíràn -- mò ń sọ nípa pé, a wà ní ilẹ̀ America, gẹ́gẹ́ bí ọmọdé, èyí ń jẹ́ kí n ní àwọn àlá asíni níwín, onípinnu tó tóbi fún bí ọ̀jọ́ iwájú mi yóò ṣe rí.


But the ways in which the world sees immigrants, it affects more than just the narratives in which they live.


Ṣùgbọ́n ọ̀nà tí gbogbo àgbáyé ń gbàá rí àwọn aṣíkiri, ó ń ṣàkóbá púpọ̀ ju àwọn ìtàn tí wọ́n ń gbé nínú rẹ̀ lọ.


It also impacts the ways laws and systems can affect communities, families and individuals.


Ó tún nípa lára ọ̀nà tí òfin àti àwọn ètò lè sàkóbá fún àwọn àwùjọ, àwọn ẹbí àti àwọn ènìyàn.


I know this firsthand, because these laws and systems, well, they broke up my family, and they led my parents to return to Mexico.


Mo mọ eléyìí tààrà, nítorí àwọn òfin àti ètò wọ̀nyí, ó dáa, wọ́n máa ń tú ẹbí ká, wọ́n sì mú kí àwọn òbí mi padà sí orílẹ̀-ède Mexico.


And at 15, my eight-year-old brother and I, we found ourselves alone and without the guidance that our parents had always provided us with.


Ní ọmọ odún mẹ́ẹ̀dógún, èmi àti àbúrò mi ọkùnrin ọmọ ọdún mẹ́jọ, a bárawa ní  àwa nìkan láaìsí ìtọ́sọ́nà tí àwọn òbi wa máa ń fún wa ní gbogbo ìgbà.


Despite being American citizens, we both felt defeated by what we had always known to be the land of opportunity.


Pẹ̀lú pé a jẹ́ ọmọ ilẹ̀ America, àwa méjééjì dàbi ẹni tó rí ìjákulẹ̀ pẹ̀lú nǹkan ti a ti mọ̀ tẹ́lẹ̀ pé ilẹ̀ àǹfààní ni.


Now, in the weeks that followed my parents' return to Mexico, when it became clear that they wouldn't be able to come back, I had to watch as my eight-year-old brother was pulled out of school to be with his family.


Ní báyìí, ní ọ̀sẹ̀ tó tẹ̀lé èyí tí àwọn òbí mi padà sí orílẹ̀-ède Mexico, nígbà tí ó hàn kedere pé wọn ò nílè padà wá, mo ní láti máa wo bí àbúrò mi ọmọ ọdún mẹ́jọ ṣe kúrò nílé-ẹ̀kọ́ kó lè wà pẹ̀lú ẹbí rẹ̀.


And during this same time, I wondered if going back would be validating my parents' sacrifices.


Ní àsìkò yìí kan náà, mò ń rò ó bóyá pípadà yóò ṣe àtìlẹyìn fún ìfarajìn àwọn òbí mi.


And so I somehow convinced my parents to let me stay, without being able to guarantee them that I'd find somewhere to live or that I'd be OK.


Mo ṣáà yí àwọn òbí mi lọ́kàn padà pé kí wọ́n jẹ́ kí n dúró, láìlè fún wọn ní ìdánilójú pé màá rí ibìkan láti gbé tàbí pé màá wà lálàáfíà.


But to this day, I will never forget how hard it was having to say goodbye.


Ṣùgbọ́n di òní, mi ò ní gbàgbe bó ṣe le tó láti sọ pé ó dábọ̀ láyéláyé.


And I will never forget how hard it was watching my little brother crumble in their arms as I waved goodbye from the other side of steel grates.


Mi ò sì ní gbàgbe bó ṣe le tó láti máa wo àbúrò mi bó ṣe ń yọ́bọ́rọ́ lọ́wọ́ wọn bí mo ṣe ń juwọ́ síwọn láti ẹ̀gbé kejì ilẹ̀kùn onírin.


Now, it would be naive to credit grit as the sole reason for why I've been able to take advantage of so many opportunities since that day.


Ní báyìí, kò ní mópọlọ dání láti gbóríyìn fún àfojúsùn gẹ́gẹ́ bi èrèdí kan ṣoṣo tí mo fi ṣàmúlò ọ̀pọ̀lọpọ̀ àǹfààní láti ọjọ́ náà.


I mean, I was really lucky, and I want you to know that.


Mò ń sọ nípa pé, mo lórí lọ́wọ́ ni, mo sì fẹ́ kí ẹ mọ̀ bẹ́ẹ̀.


Because statistically speaking, students that are homeless or that have unstable living conditions, well, they rarely complete high school.


Nítorí ká sọ̀rọ̀ pẹ̀lú ìṣirò, àwọn akẹ́kọ̀ọ́ tí ò nílé tàbí tí wọ́n gbé ìgbeayé tí ò ṣe déédéé, ó dáa, wọn kìí fi bẹ́ẹ̀ figa-gbága ní ilé-ẹ̀kọ́ gíga.


But I do think that it was because my parents had the trust in letting me go that I somehow found the courage and strength to take on opportunities even when I felt unsure or unqualified.


Ṣùgbọ́n mo máa ń rò ó wí pé nítorí àwọn òbí mi nígbàgbọ́ láti fimí sílẹ̀ ló jẹ́ kín nígboyà àti agbára láti ṣàmúlò àǹfààní kódà nígbà tí kò dámilójú tàbi pé mi ò peregedé.


Now, there's no denying that there is a cost to living the American dream.


Ní báyìí, a ò lè parọ́ pé kò sí ẹ̀jẹ́ fún gbígbé ìgbeayé àla ilẹ̀ America.


You do not have to be an immigrant or the child of immigrants to know that.


Ẹ ò nílò láti jẹ́ aṣíkiri tàbí ọmọ aṣíkiri láti mọ ìyẹn.


But I do know that now, today, I am living something close to what my parents saw as their American dream.


Ṣùgbọ́n mo mọ ìyẹn báyìí, mò ń gbé nǹkan tó súnmọ́ nǹkan tí àwọn òbí mi rí gẹ́gẹ́ bi àla America wọn.


Because as soon as I graduated from college, I flew my younger brother to the United States to live with me, so that he, too, could pursue his education.


Nítorí bí mo ṣe ń kẹ́kọ̀ọ́ jáde ní ilé-ẹ̀kọ́, mo gbé àbúrò mi wá sí orílẹ̀-ède United States láti gbé pẹ̀lú mi, kí ohun náà, bákan náà, lè ṣiṣẹ́ tọ ẹ̀kọ rẹ̀.


Still, I knew that it would be hard flying my little brother back.


Síbẹ̀, mo mọ̀ wí pé gbígbé àbúrò mi padà wá máa le.


I knew that it would be hard having to balance the demands and professionalism required of an entry-level job while being responsible for a child with dreams and ambitions of his own.


Mo mọ̀ wí pé yóò le láti ṣe ìdọ́gba àwọn ìbéèrè àti ìwa-akọ́ṣẹ́mọṣẹ́ tí wọ́n ń retí  látọ̀dọ onísẹ́ ipele-ìwọlé àti ṣíṣẹ̀tọ́ fún ọmọ kan tó ní àlá àti ìpinnu tirẹ̀.


But you can imagine how fun it is to be 24 years old, at the peak of my youth, living in New York, with an angsty teenage roommate who hates doing the dishes.


Ṣùgbọ́n tí ẹ bá lè ronú bóṣe dùn tó láti jẹ́ ọmọ ọdún mẹ́rìn-lé-lógún, tí mo wa ní òpin ìjẹ́ ọ̀dọ́ mi, tí mò ń gbé ní New York, pẹ̀lú alájọgbé tó ń bẹ lábẹ́ ogún ọdún oníbẹ́rù tó kórìra abọ́ fífọ̀.


The worst.


Èyí tó burú jù.


But when I see my brother learning how to advocate for himself, and when I see him get excited about his classes and school, I do not doubt anything.


Ṣùgbọ́n nígbà tí mo rí àbúrò mi tó ń kẹ́kọ̀ọ́ láti jẹ́ agbenusọ fún ara rẹ̀, nígbà ti mo ri pé inú rẹ̀ ń dùn nípa kílásì rẹ̀ àti ilé-ẹ̀kọ́ rẹ̀, mi ò ṣeyèméjì kankan.


Because I know that this bizarre, beautiful and privileged life that I now live is the true reason for why I decided to pursue a career that would help me and my family find financial stability.


Torí mo mọ̀ pé ìgbeayé tó yátọ̀, tó rewà tó sì jẹ́ àǹfààní tí mò ń gbé lọ́wọ́ yìí ni ìdí tóòtọ́ tí mo fi pinnu láti ṣiṣẹ́ tọ iṣẹ́ kan tí yóò bá èmi àti ẹbí mi wá owó geere.


I did not know it back then, but during those eight years that I lived without my family, I had my oxygen mask on and I focused on survival.


Mi ò mọ̀ nígbà náà, ṣùgbọ́n láàárín odún mẹ́jọ tí mo fi gbé láìsí ẹbi mi yẹn, mo wọ ìbòjú èémí-amísínú mi mo sì gbájúmọ́ ìmóríbọ́.


And during those same eight years, I had to watch helplessly the pain and hurt that it caused my family to be apart.


Láàárín ọdún mẹ́jọ yẹn, mo ní láti máa wo ìnira àti ọgbé tó fà fún ẹbí mi láti pínyà láìlè ṣe nǹkankan.


What airlines don't tell you is that putting your oxygen mask on first while seeing those around you struggle -- it takes a lot of courage.


Nǹkan tí àwọn ọkọ̀-òfuurufú ò ní sọ fún yín ni wí pé wíwọ ìbòjú èémí-amísínú yín lákọ̀kọ́ nígbà tí ẹ bá ń wo àwọn tí wọ́n rọkiriká yín tí wọ́n ń tiraka -- ó gba ìgboyà.


But being able to have that self-control is sometimes the only way that we are able to help those around us.


Ṣùgbọ́n kí ènìyán lè ní ìmáradúró nígbà mìíràn ni ọ̀nà kan ṣoṣo tí a lè fi ran àwọn tí wọ́n rọkiriká wa lọ́wọ́.


Now I'm super lucky to be in a place where I can be there for my little brother so that he feels confident and prepared to take on whatever he chooses to do next.


Ní báyìí orí mi sọre pé mo wà ní àyè kan ti mo lè ṣe ìrànlọ́wọ́ fún àbúrò mi kó lè ní ìgboyà kó si gbaradì láti kojú ohun-kóhun tó bá yàn láti ṣe léyìn ẹ̀.


But I also know that because I am in this position of privilege, I also have the responsibility to make sure that my community finds spaces where they can find guidance, access and support.


Ṣùgbọ́n mo tún mọ̀ wí pé mo wà nípò àǹfààní yìí, mo sì tún ní ojúṣe láti ríi dájú pé àwùjọ mi rí àyè níbi ti wọ́n ti lè rí ìtọ́sọ́nà, àǹfààní àti ìrànlọ́wọ́.


I can't claim to know where each and every one of you are on your journey through life, but I do know that our world is one that flourishes when different voices come together.


Mi ò lè sọ wí pé mo mọ ibi tí ìkọ̀ọ̀kan nínú yín wà nínú ìrìnàjo yín nínú ayé, ṣùgbọ́n mo mọ̀ wí pé àgbáyé wa jẹ́ èyí tí yóò dàgbàsókè nigbà tí oríṣiríṣi ohùn bá parapọ̀.


My hope is that you will find the courage to put your oxygen mask on when you need to, and that you will find the strength to help those around you when you can.


Ìrètí mi ni wí pé ẹ máa rí ìgboyà láti wọ ìbòjú èémí-amísínú yín nígbà tí ẹ bá nílò rẹ̀, pé ẹ ó sì rí agbára láti ran àwọn tó wà láyìká yín lọ́wọ́ tí ẹ bá lè ṣe bẹ́ẹ̀.


A hospital tour in Nigeria


Irìnàjo afẹ́ sí ilé-ìwòsàn ní orílẹ̀-ède Nigeria.


Just to put everything in context, and to kind of give you a background to where I'm coming from, so that a lot of the things I'm going to say, and the things I'm going to do -- or things I'm going to tell you I've done -- you will understand exactly why and how I got motivated to be where I am.


Láti fi gbogbo rẹ̀ sí ọ̀gangan ipò, àti láti fún yín ní ìpìlẹ ibi tí a ti ń bọ̀, kí ọ̀pọ̀lọpọ̀ nkan tí mo máa sọ, àti àwọn nǹkan tí mo máa ṣe -- tàbí àwọn nǹkan tí mo máa sọ fún yín pé mo ti ṣe -- ẹ ó mọ ìdí àti bí mo ṣe rí ìwúrí láti dé ibi tí mo wà.


I graduated high school in Cleveland, Ohio, 1975.


Mo kẹ́kọ̀ọ́ jáde ní ilé-ẹ̀kọ́ mẹ́wàá Cleveland, Ohio, ọdún 1975


And just like my parents did when they finished studying abroad, we went back home.


Gẹ́gẹ́ bí àwọn òbí mi ṣe ṣe nígbà tí wọ́n parí ẹ̀kọ́ nílẹ̀-òkèèrè, a padà sílé.


Finished university education, got a medical degree, 1986.


Mo parí ẹ̀kọ fásitì, mo gba oyè àkọ̀kọ́ nínú ìmọ̀-ìṣègùn, ọdún 1986.


And by the time I was an intern house officer, I could barely afford to maintain my mother's 13-year-old car -- and I was a paid doctor.


Nígbà tí mo máa fi di akẹ́kọ̀ọ́ nídìí iṣẹ́, tipátipá ni mo fi lè ṣàmójútó ọkọ̀ ọlọ́dún mẹ́tàlá ìyá mi -- mo sì jẹ́ oníṣègùn-òyìnbó tó ń gbowó.


This brings us to why a lot of us, who are professionals, are now, as they say, in diaspora.


Èyí l’ó mú wa dé ìdí tí ọ̀pọ̀lọpọ̀ wa, tí a jẹ́ akọ́ṣẹ́mọṣẹ́, ní báyìí, gẹ́gẹ́ bí wọ́n ṣe sọ, wà nílẹ̀ òkèèrè


Now, are we going to make that a permanent thing, where we all get trained, and we leave, and we don't go back?


Ní báyìí, ṣé a ó sọ ìyẹn di nǹkan aláìyípadà ni, níbi tí wọ́n ti kọ́ wa, a sì kúrò, a ò sì padà?


Perhaps not, I should certainly hope not -- because that is not my vision.


Bóyá bẹ́ẹ̀kọ́, kí n lérò wí pé kò rí bẹ́ẹ̀ -- nítorí kì í ṣe ìran tèmi nìyẹn.


All right, for good measure, that's where Nigeria is on the African map, and just there is the Delta region that I'm sure everybody's heard of.


Ó dára, fún òdiwọ̀n tó dára, ibi tí orílẹ̀-ède Nigeria wà lórí àwòran ilẹ̀ Adúláwọ̀ nìyẹn, níbẹ̀ yẹn ni agbègbe Delta tó dámilójú pé gbogbo wa lati gbọ́ nípa rẹ̀.


People getting kidnapped, where the oil comes from, the oil that sometimes I think has driven us all crazy in Nigeria.


Wọ́n ń jí àwọn ènìyàn gbé, níbi tí epo ti ń wá, epo tó ṣe wí pé nígbà mìíràn mo rò wí pé ó ti sínwa níwín.


But, critical poverty: this slide is from a presentation I gave not that long ago.


Ṣùgbọ́n, òṣì alágbára: ìdàndán àsúnsí yìí jẹ́ ti ìdánilẹ́kọ̀ọ́ kan tí mo ṣe ní kòpẹ́ yìí.


org tells the story of the gap between Africa and the rest of the world in terms of health care.


org ń sọ ìtàn nípa àlàfo tó wà láàárín ilẹ̀ Adúláwọ̀ àti àwọn tókù lágbàyé nípa ìtọ́jú ìlera.


Very interesting.


Ó panilẹ́rìn gidi gan-an.


How many people do you think are on that taxi?


Ènìyàn mélòó lẹ lérò pé ó wà nínú kabúkabú yẹn?


And believe it or not, that is a taxi in Nigeria.


Ẹ gbà á gbọ́ tàbí bẹ́ẹ̀ kọ́, ọkọ̀-akérò kan nìyẹn lórílẹ̀-ède Nigeria.


And the capital -- well, what used to be the capital of Nigeria -- Lagos, that's a taxi, and you have police on them.


Olú ìlú náà -- ó dáa, ibi tó jẹ́ olú-ìlu orílẹ̀-ède Nigeria tẹ́lẹ̀ -- Èkó, kabúkabú kan nìyẹn, ọlọ́pàá sì wà nínú wọn.


So, tell me, how many policemen do you think are on this taxi?


Torí náà, ẹ sọ fún mi, ọlọ́pàá mélòó lẹ lérò pé ó wà nínú kabúkabú yìí?


And now?


Báyìí ńkọ́?


So, when these kind of people -- and, believe me, it's not just the police that use these taxis in Lagos.


Nítorí náà, nígbà tí irú àwọn ènìyàn báyìí -- àti, ẹ gbà mí gbọ́, kì í ṣe ọlọ́pàá nìkan ni wọ́n ń lo àwọn kabúkabú wọ̀nyí ní Èkó.


We all do.


Gbogbo wa ni.


I've been on one of these, and I didn't have a helmet, either.


Mo ti wà nínú ọ̀kan nínú àwọn wọ̀nyí rí, mi ò sì ní akoto, bákan náà.


And it just reminds me of the thought of what happens when one of us on a taxi like this falls off, has an accident and needs a hospital.


Ó sì ránmi léti nípa èrò nǹkan tó sẹlẹ̀ nígbà tí ọ̀kan nínú wa lórí ọkọ̀-akérò bí èyí jábọ́, ó ní ìjàmbá ó sì nílò ilé ìwòsàn.


Believe it or not, some of us do survive.


Ẹ gbà á gbọ́ tàbí bẹ́ẹ̀ kọ́, àwọn kan nínú wa máa ń móríbọ́.


Some of us do survive malaria; we do survive AIDS.


Àwọn kan nínú wa máa ń bọ́ nínú ewu ibà-ìgbóná; a máa ń móríbọ́ nínú àrùn kògbóògùn AIDS.


"And like I tell my family, and my wife reminds me every time, ""You're risking your life, you know, every time you go to that country."


Bí mo ṣe máa ń sọ fún ẹbí mi, tí ìyàwó mi ṣe máa ń ránmi léti ní gbogbo ìgbà, “ò ń fi ẹ̀mi araà rẹ wéwu, ṣé o mọ̀, ní gbogbo ìgbà tí o bá lọ sí orílẹ̀-èdè yẹn.


""" And she's right."


Òtítọ́ l’ó sì sọ.


Every time you go there, you know that if you actually need critical care -- critical care of any sort -- if you have an accident -- of which there are many, there are accidents everywhere -- where do they go?


Nígbà gbogbo tí ẹ bá lọ síbẹ̀, ẹ mọ̀ pé tí ẹ bá nílò ìtójú tí ó ṣe pàtàkì -- èyíkéyìí ìtọ́jú tí ó nílò ìdáhùn sí pàtàkì -- tí ẹ bá ní ìjàmbá – tó ṣe wí pé wọ́n pọ̀, ìjàmbá wà níbi gbogbo -- níbo ni wọ́n máa ń lọ?


Where do they go when they need help for this kind of stuff?


Níbo ni wọ́n máa ń lọ nígbà tí wọ́n bá nílò ìrànlọ́wọ́ fún irú nǹkan báyìí?


I'm not saying instead of, I'm saying as well as, AIDS, TB, malaria, typhoid -- the list goes on.


Mi ò sọ wí pé dípò kí, mò ń sọ wí pé àti, àrùn AIDS, ikọ́-àwúgbẹ, ibà ọ̀rẹ̀rẹ̀, ibà pọ́njúpọ́ntọ̀ -- oǹkà rẹ̀ tẹ̀síwájú.


I'm saying, where do they go when they're like me?


Mò ń sọ wí pé, níbo ni wọ́n ń lọ nígbà tí wọ́n dà bíi tèmi?


When I go back home -- and I do all kinds of things, I teach, I train -- but I catch one of these things, or I'm chronically ill with one of those, where do they go?


Bí mo bá padà lọ sílé -- tí mo sì ń ṣe oríṣiríṣi nǹkan, mo ń ṣe olùkọ́ni, mo ń gbaradì -- ṣùgbọ́n mo kó ọ̀kan nínú àwọn nǹkan wọ̀nyí, tàbí ọ̀kan nínú àwọn wọ̀nyí dá mi gúnlẹ̀, níbo ni wọ́n máa lọ?


What's the economic impact when one of them dies or becomes disabled?


Kíni ipa ọrọ̀-ajé nígbà tí ọ̀kan nínú wọn bá kú tàbí di aláàbọ̀-ara?


I think it's quite significant.


Mo rò wí pé ó ṣe pàtàkì.


This is where they go.


Ibi tí wọ́n máa ń lọ nìyí.


These are not old pictures and these are not from some downtrodden -- this is a major hospital.


Àwọn wọ̀nyí ò kí ń ṣe àwòrán àtijọ́ wọn ò sì kí ń ṣe láti àwọn àyè tí wọ́n ti lò bàjẹ́ -- ilé-ìwòsàn ńlá lèyí.


In fact, it's from a major teaching hospital in Nigeria.


Ní tòótọ́, láti ilé-ìwòsàn ìkẹ́kọ̀ọ́ ìmọ̀ ìṣègùn ńlá kan ní orílẹ̀ ède Nigeria ló ti wá.


Now that is less than a year old, in an operating room.


Ìyẹn ò tíì pé ọdún kan, nínú yàrá iṣẹ́ abẹ.


That's sterilizing equipment in Nigeria.


Àwọn irinṣẹ́ abẹ nìyẹn ní orílẹ̀-ède Nigeria.


You remember all that oil?


Ṣé ẹ rántí gbogbo epo yẹn?


Yes, I'm sorry if it upsets some of you, but I think you need to see this.


Bẹ́ẹ̀ ni, mo tọrọ àforíjì pé màá dẹ́rùba àwọn kan nínú yín, ṣùgbọ́n mo rò wí pé ẹ nílò láti rí èyí.


That's the floor, OK?


Ilẹ̀ẹ́lẹ̀ nìyẹn, ṣó yé?


You can say some of this is education.


Ẹ lè sọ wí pé díẹ̀ nínú àwọn yìí jẹ́ ètò-ẹ̀kọ́.


You can say it's hygiene.


Ẹ lè sọ wí pé ìmọ́tótó ni.


I'm not pleading poverty.


Mi ò sọ wí pé òṣì ni.


I'm saying we need more than just, you know, vaccination, malaria, AIDS, because I want to be treated in a proper hospital if something happens to me out there.


Mò ń sọ wípé a nílò ju, ẹ mọ̀, òògùn àjẹsára, ibà, ìsọdọ̀lẹ àjẹsára, nítorí mo fẹ́ gba ìtọ́jú ní ilé-ìwòsàn tó dántọ́ tí nǹkankan bá ṣẹlẹ̀ sí mi níbẹ̀ yẹn


"In fact, when I start running around saying, ""Hey, boys and girls, you're cardiologists in the U.S, can you come home with me and do a mission?"


Ní tòótọ́, nígbà tí mo bá bẹ̀rẹ̀ sí sáré káàkiri tí mò ń sọ pé, “Hey, ọmọkùnrin àti ọmọbìnrin, onímọ̀ nípa ààrun ọkàn niyín ní orílẹ̀-ède US, ǹjẹ́ ẹ lè tẹ̀lé mi padà sílé ká lọ ṣe iṣẹ́ pátàkì kan?


""" I want them to think, ""Well there's some hope."


“ Mo fẹ́ kí wọ́n rò ó wí pé, “Ó dáa ìrètí díẹ̀ wa.


Now, have a look at that.


Ní báyìí, ẹ wo ìyẹn.


That's the anesthesiology machine.


Ẹ̀rọ atunilára nìyẹn.


And that's my specialty, right?


Iṣẹ́ mi gangan nìyẹn, àbí?


Anesthesiology and critical care -- look at that bag.


Òògun atunilára àti ìtọ́jú alágbára -- ẹ wo àpamọ́ yẹn?


It's been taped with tape that we even stopped using in the U.S


Wọ́n ti lẹ̀ ẹ́ pẹ̀lú téépù débi wí pé a dẹ́kun ìlo rẹ̀ ní orílẹ̀-ède US


And believe me, these are current pictures.


Ẹ gbà mí gbọ́, àwọn àwòran nǹkan tó ń ṣẹlẹ̀ lọ́wọ́ nìwọ̀nyí.


Now, if something like this, which has happened in the U.S, that's where they go.


Ní báyìí, tí nǹkan bí irú eléyìí, tó ti ṣẹlẹ̀ ní orílẹ̀-ède US, ibi tí a máa ń lọ nìyẹn.


This is the intensive care unit in which I work.


Ẹ̀ka ìtọ́jú alágbára tí mo ti ń ṣiṣẹ́ nìyí.


"All right, this is a slide from a talk I gave about intensive care units in Nigeria, and jokingly we refer to it as ""Expensive Scare."


Ó dára, ìdàndán àsúnsí kan rè é láti ìdánilẹ́kọ̀ọ́ kan tí mo ṣe nípa ẹ̀ka ìtọ́jú alágbára ní orílẹ̀-ède Nigeria, a máa ń tọ́ka sí i bí ẹ̀fẹ̀ gẹ́gẹ́ bi “Ibanilérù Oníyebíye.


""" Because it's scary and it's expensive, but we need to have it, OK?"


“ Nítorí ó banilérù ó sì wọ́n, ṣùgbọ́n a nílò láti ní i, só yé?


So, these are the problems.


Nítorí náà, àwọn ìṣòro náà nìwọ̀nyí.


There are no prizes for telling us what the problems are, are there?


Kò sí ẹ̀bùn kankan fún sísọ nǹkan tí àwọn ìṣòro náà jẹ́ fún wa, àbí ó wà?


I think we all know.


Mo rò wí pé gbogbo wa la mọ̀.


And several speakers before and speakers after me are going to tell us even more problems.


Ọ̀pọ̀lọpọ̀ olùdánilẹ́kọ̀ ṣíwájú àti lẹ́yìn mi máa sọ àwọn ìṣòro tó tún pọ̀ fún wa.


These are a few of them.


Díẹ̀ nínú wọn ni nìwọ̀nyí.


So, what did I do?


Nítorí náà, kíni mo ṣe?


There we go -- we're going on a mission.


Ibi à ń lọ la dé yìí -- à ń lọ ṣe iṣẹ́ pátàkì kan.


We're going to do some open-heart surgery.


A fẹ́ lọ ṣe iṣẹ́ abẹ ọkàn.


I was the only Brit, on a team of about nine American cardiac surgeons, cardiac nurse, intensive care nurse.


Èmi nìkan ni mo jẹ́ ọmọ ilẹ̀ Britain, nínú ikọ̀ ẹlẹ́ni mẹ́sàn àwọn oníṣẹ́-abẹ ọkàn ilẹ̀ America, àwọn olùtọ́-ilé-ìwòsàn onímọ̀ nípa ọkàn, àwọn olùtọ́-ilé-ìwòsàn onímọ̀ nípa ìtọ́jú alágbára.


We all went out and did a mission and we've done three of them so far.


Gbogbo wa la jáde lọ ṣe iṣẹ́ pátàkì a sì ti ṣe mẹ́ta nínú wọn di àsìkò yìí.


Just so you know, I do believe in missions, I do believe in aid and I do believe in charity.


Bóyá ẹ ò mọ̀, mo nígbàgbọ́ nínú iṣẹ́ pátàkì, mo máa ń nígbàgbọ́ nínú ìrànwọ́ mo sì máa ń nígbàgbọ́ nínú ìtọrẹ àánú.


They have their place, but where do they go for those things we talked about earlier?


Wọ́n ní àye wọn, ṣùgbọ́n níbo ni wọ́n máa ń lọ fún àwọn nǹkan tí a sọrọ̀ nípa rẹ̀ ṣíwájú wọ̀nyẹn?


Because it's not everyone that's going to benefit from a mission.


Nítorí kìí ṣe gbogbo ènìyàn ni yóò jẹ àǹfààní iṣẹ́ pátàkì náà.


Health is wealth, in the words of Hans Rosling.


Ìlera l’ọrọ̀, nínú ọ̀rọ Hans Rosling.


You get wealthier faster if you are healthy first.


E ó lọ́rọ̀ kíákíá tí ẹ bá kọ́kọ́ wà lálàáfíà.


So, here we are, mission.


Nítorí ńà, àwa rè é, iṣẹ́ pátàkì.


Big trouble.


Wàhálà ńlá.


Open-heart surgery in Nigeria -- big trouble.


Iṣẹ́-abẹ ọkàn ní orílẹ̀-ède Nigeria -- wàhálà ńlá.


That's Mike, Mike comes out from Mississippi.


Mike nìyẹn, Mike jáde síta láti Mississippi.


Does he look like he's happy?


Ṣe ó jọ wí pé inú rẹ̀ ń dùn?


It took us two days just to organize the place, but hey, you know, we worked on it.


Ọjọ́ méjì ló gbàwá láti ṣe àto àyè náà, ṣùgbọ́n hey, ẹ mọ̀, a ṣiṣẹ́ lórí rẹ̀.


Does he look happy?


Ṣé ó jọ pé inú rè ń dun?


"Yes, that's the medical advice the committee chairman says, ""Yes, I told you, you weren't going to be able to, you can't do this, I just know it."


Bẹ́ẹ̀ ni, ìyànjú ìmọ̀ ìlera tí alága ìgbìmọ̀ náà sọ nìyẹn, “Bẹ́ẹ̀ ni, mo sọ fún yín, e ò nílè ṣe é, ẹ ò lè ṣe eléyìí, mo kọ̀ mọ́ bẹ́ẹ̀ ni.


""" Look, that's the technician we had."


“ Ẹ wò ó, onímọ̀-ẹ̀rọ tí a ní nìyẹn.


So yes, you go on, all right?


Bẹ́ẹ̀ ni, ìwọ tẹ̀síwájú, ṣó yé?


I got him to come with me -- anesthesia tech -- come with me from the U.


Mo mú u tẹ̀lé mi -- onímọ̀-ẹ̀rọ nípa ìtunilára -- wá pẹ̀lú mi láti orílẹ̀-ède US


Yes, let's just go work this thing out.


Bẹ́ẹ̀ ni, jẹ k’á lọ yanjú kiní yìí


See, that's one of the problems we have in Nigeria and in Africa generally.


Ẹ wò ó, ọ̀kan nínú àwọn ìṣòro tí a ní lórílẹ̀-ède Nigeria àti ilẹ̀ Adúláwọ̀ lápapọ̀ nìyẹn.


We get a lot of donated equipment.


A gba ọ̀pọ̀lọpọ̀ àwọn irinṣẹ́ tí wọ́n ṣe ìkójọ rẹ̀.


Equipment that's obsolete, equipment that doesn't quite work, or it works and you can't fix it.


Àwọn irinṣẹ́ tí ò wúlò mọ́, àwọn irinṣẹ́ tí ò fi bẹ́ẹ̀ ṣiṣẹ́, tàbí tó ṣiṣẹ́ ṣùgbọ́n tí ẹ ò lè tunṣe.


And there's nothing wrong with that, so long as we use it and we move on.


Kò sí nǹkankan tó burú nínú ìyẹn, tí a bá ti ń ríi lò tí a sì tẹ̀síwájú.


But we had problems with it.


Ṣùgbọ́n a ní ìsọ̀ro pẹ̀lu rẹ̀


We had severe problems there.


A ní ìṣòro tó lágbára níbẹ̀.


He had to get on the phone.


A ní láti bọ́ sórí ẹ̀rọ ìbánisọ̀rọ̀.


This guy was always on the phone.


Ọkùnrin yìí máa ń wà lórí èrọ̀ ìbánisọ̀rọ̀ ní gbogbo ìgbà ni.


So what we going to do now?


Kí la fẹ́ ṣe báyìí?


It looks like all these Americans are here and yes, one Brit, and he's not going to do anything -- he thinks he's British actually, and he's actually Nigerian, I just thought about that.


Ó dàbi ẹni wí pé àwọn ará ilẹ̀ America wọ̀nyí wà níbí bẹ́ẹ̀ sì ni, ọmọ ilẹ̀ Britain kan, kò sì ní ṣe nǹkankan -- ó rò wí pé ọmọ ilẹ̀ Britain lòun lóòótọ́, ọmọ orílẹ̀-ède Nigeria sì ni o, mo ṣè ronú nípa ìyẹn ni.


We eventually got it working, is the truth, but it was one of these.


A pàpà jẹ́ kó ṣiṣẹ́, ododo ni, ṣùgbọ́n ìkan nínú àwọn wọ̀nyí ni.


Even older than the one you saw.


Kódà ó ti darúgbó ju èyí tí ẹ rí lọ.


The reason I have this picture here, this X-ray, it's just to tell you where and how we were viewing X-rays.


Ìdí tí mo fi ní àwòrán yìí níbí, X-ray yìí, ni láti sọ ibi àti bí a ṣe ń wo fọ́tò àyà fun yín.


Do you figure where that is?


Ǹjẹ́ ẹ lè rí ibi tí iyẹn wà?


It was on a window.


Orí i fèrèsé kan ló wà.


I mean, what's an X-ray viewing box?


Mò ń sọ nípa pé, kíni àpóti ìwo àwòrán X-ray?


Well, nowadays everything's on PAX anyway.


Ó dára, lásìkò yìí gbogbo rẹ̀ ti wà lórí PAX ṣá.


You look at your X-rays on a screen and you do stuff with them, you email them.


Ẹ wo X-ray yín lórí ẹ̀ro agbàwòrán-tàn tí ẹ sì ṣe nǹkan pẹ̀lú wọn, tí ẹ sì fi wọ́n ránṣẹ́ lórí ẹ̀ro.


But we were still using X-rays, but we didn't even have a viewing box! And we were doing open-heart surgery.


Ṣùgbọ́n a ṣì ń lo X-ray, ṣùgbọ́n a ò tiẹ̀ ní àpótí ìwò! A sì ń ṣe iṣẹ́ abẹ ọkàn.


OK, I know it's not AIDS, I know it's not malaria, but we still need this stuff.


Ó dára, mo mò pé kì í ṣe àrùn ìsọdọ̀lẹ àjẹsára, mo mọ̀ pé kì í ṣe ibà, ṣùgbọ́n a ṣì nílò kiní yìí.


Oh yeah, echo -- this was just to get the children ready and the adults ready.


Oh bẹ́ẹ̀ ni, gbohùngbohùn -- èyí wà láti jẹ́ kí àwọn ọmọ náà wà ní ìgbaradì àti kí àwọn àgbàlagbà náà wà ní ìgbaradì.


People still believe in Voodoo.


Àwọn ènìyàn ṣì nígbàgbọ́ nínú Voodoo.


Heart disease, VSD, hole in the heart, tetralogies.


Àrùn ọkàn, VSD, ihò inú ọkàn, àmì-àìsàn-mẹ́rin.


You still get people who believe in it and they came.


Ẹ ṣì ma rí àwọn ènìyàn tí wọ́n nígbàgbọ́ nínú rẹ̀ wọ́n sì wá.


At 67 percent oxygen saturation, the normal is about 97.


Ní ìdá 67 iye òyì-iná ara, tí ó yẹ ó jẹ́ bíi ìdá 97.


Her condition, open-heart surgery that as she required, would have been treated when she was a child.


Ipò rẹ̀, iṣẹ́-abẹ ọkàn tí ó ń fẹ́, ì bá ti di títọ́jú nígbà tí ó wà ní èwe.


We had to do these for adults.


A ní láti ṣe àwọn wọ̀nyí fún àwọn àgbàlagbà.


So, we did succeed and we still do.


Nítorí náà, a ṣe aṣeyọrí a sì ṣì ń ṣe é.


We've done three.


A ti ṣe mẹ́ta.


We're planning another one in July in the north of the country.


À ń pète òmíràn ní oṣù Agẹmọ ní àríwá orílẹ̀-èdè náà.


So, we certainly still do open-heart, but you can see the contrast between everything that was shipped in -- we ship everything, instruments.


Nítorí náà, a ṣì ń ṣe iṣẹ́-abẹ ọkàn, ṣùgbọ́n ẹ lè rí ìyàtọ̀ láàárín gbogbo nǹkan tí a kó wọlé -- a kó gbogbo rẹ̀ wọlé ni, àwọn irinṣẹ́.


We had explosions because the kit was designed and installed by people who weren't used to it.


A ní ìbú-gbàámù nítorí àwọn tí wọn kò mọ àríṣá àwọn irinṣẹ́ náà ni wọ́n ṣe àgbékalẹ̀ rẹ̀.


The oxygen tanks didn't quite work right.


Àgbá òyì-iná náà ò ṣiṣé dáadáa tó.


But how many did we do the first one?


Ṣùgbọ́n mélòó ni a ṣe ní àkọ́kọ́?


We did 12 open-heart surgical patients successfully.


A ṣe iṣẹ́-abẹ ọkàn fún aláìsàn méjìlá ní àṣeyọrí.


Here is our very first patient, out of intensive care, and just watch that chair, all right?


Aláìsàn wa àkọ́kọ́ rèé, látinú yàrá ìtọ́jú alágbára, ẹ wo àga yẹn, ṣó yé?


This is what I mean about appropriate technology.


Nǹkan tí mò ń sọ rè é nípa ìmọ̀-ẹ̀ro tó yẹ.


That's what he was doing, propping up the bed because the bed simply didn't work.


Nǹkan tó ń ṣe nìyẹn, rírọ ibùsùn nítorí ibùsun náà ò ṣiṣẹ́.


Have you seen one of those before?


Ǹjẹ́ ẹ ti rí ọ̀kan nínú àwọn wọ̀nyí rí tẹ́lẹ̀?


Doesn't matter, it worked.


Kò ṣe pàtàkì, ó ṣiṣẹ́.


"I'm sure you've all seen or heard this before: ""We, the willing, have been doing so much with so little for so long -- (Applause) -- we are now qualified to do anything with nothing."


Ó dámi lójú pé gbogbo yín lẹ ti rí tàbí gbọ́ èyí tẹ́lẹ̀: “Àwa, tí a ní ìfẹ́, ti ń ṣe púpọ̀ pẹ̀lú díẹ̀ fún ìgbà pípẹ́ -- (àtẹ́wọ́) -- a ti kẹ́sẹjárí láti ṣe nǹkan yòóhùn láìní nǹkankan.


Sustainable Solutions -- this was my first company.


Àwọn ọ̀nà-àbáyọ alálòpẹ́ -- ilé-iṣẹ́ mi àkọ̀kọ́ rè é.


This one's sole aim is to provide the very things that I think are missing.


Ìpinnu kan ṣoṣo yìí ni láti pèse àwọn nǹkan tí mo rò wí pé a ń ṣe àfẹ́kù rẹ̀.


"So, we put my hand in my pocket and say, ""Guys, let's just buy stuff."


Nítorí náà, a fi ọwọ́ mi sínú àpò mi a sì sọ wí pé, “ẹ̀yin tèmi, ẹ jẹ́ ká ra nǹkan.


Let's go set up a company that teaches people, educates them, gives them the tools they need to keep going.


Ẹ jẹ́ ká lọ dá ilé-iṣẹ́ kan sílẹ̀ tí yóò máa kọ́ àwọn ènìyàn, dáwọn lẹ́kọ̀ọ́, fún wọn ní àwọn irinṣẹ́ tí wọ́n nílò láti máa tẹ̀síwájú.


And that's a perfect example of one.


Àpẹẹrẹ gidi kan nìyẹn.


Usually when you buy a ventilator in a hospital, you buy a different one for children, you buy a different one for transport.


Lọ́pọ̀ ìgbà nígbà tí ẹ bá ra ẹ̀rọ-atẹ́gùn ní ilé-ìwòsàn kan, ẹ ó ra ti ọmọdé lọ́tọ̀ ni, ẹ ó sì ra òmíràn fún àgbéká.


This one will do everything, and it will do it at half the price and doesn't need compressed air.


Eléyìí máa ṣe gbogbo rẹ̀, yóó sì ṣe é ní ìdajì owó náà kò sì nílò atẹ́gùn fífọn.


If you're in America and you don't know about this one, we do, because we make it our duty to find out what's appropriate technology for Africa -- what's appropriately priced, does the job, and we move on.


Bí ẹ bá wà ní ilẹ̀ America tí ẹ ò sì mọ̀ nípa eléyìí, a mọ̀, nítorí a ti sọ ọ́ di ojúṣe wa láti ṣàwárí ìmọ̀-ẹ̀rọ tó yẹ fún ilẹ̀ Adúláwọ̀ – kíni wọ́n ná lọ́nà tó bójúmu, tó ṣiṣẹ́ náà, k’á sì tẹ̀síwájú.


Anesthesia machine: multi-parameter monitor, operating lights, suction.


Ẹ̀rọ atunilára: agbàwòrán ọlọ́pọ̀-òdiwọ̀n, àwọn iná iṣẹ́-abẹ, òǹfà atẹ́gùn.


This little unit here -- remember your little 12-volt plug in the car, that charges your, whatever, Game Boy, telephone?


Ìwọ̀n kékeré t’ó wà níbí yìí -- ẹ rántí ìkìwọ̀èèkànpọ̀ alágbára méjìlá t’ó wà nínú ọkọ̀, t’ó máa ń fún nǹkan yín lágbára, nǹkan-kí-nǹkan, Game Boy, ẹ̀rọ-ìbánisọ̀rọ̀?


That's exactly how the outlets are designed.


Bẹ́ẹ̀ gẹ́lẹ́ la ṣe ṣe ìṣelọ́jọ̀ àwọn ilé-ìtajà náà.


Yes, it will take a solar panel.


Bẹ́ẹ̀ni, ó máa gba pátákó-igun-mẹ́rin agbára ìtànṣán-oòrùn.


Yes a solar panel will charge it.


Bẹ́ẹ̀ni pátákó-igun-mẹ́rin agbára ìtànsán-oòrùn máa fún-un lágbára.


But if you've got mains as well, it will charge the batteries in there.


Ṣùgbọ́n tí ẹ bá ní okùn-agbéná mànà-máná bákan náà, ó máa fún àwọn òkúta-agbanására t’ó wà nínú ibẹ̀ yẹn lágbára.


And guess what?


Ṣé ẹ mọ nǹkan?


We have a little pedal charger too, just in case.


A ní àwọn agbagbára-iná-sára àfẹsẹ̀tẹ̀ kékeré náà, tí ẹ bá fẹ́.


And guess what, if it all fails, if you can find a car that's still got a live battery and you stick it in, it will still work.


Ṣé ẹ mọ nǹkan, tí gbogbo rẹ̀ ò bá ṣiṣẹ́, tí ẹ bá lè wá ọkọ̀ tí òkúta-agbanására rẹ̀ ṣì ń ṣiṣẹ́ tí ẹ sì tì í bọ̀ ọ́, yóó sì ṣiṣẹ́.


Then you can customize it.


Ẹ wá lè ṣe àtúnṣe sí i.


Is it dental surgery you want?


Ṣé iṣẹ́-abe eyín ni ẹ fẹ́?


General surgery you want?


Iṣẹ́-abẹ àpapọ̀ lẹ fẹ́?


Decide which instruments, stock it up with consumables.


Pinnu irú àwọn irinṣẹ́ tí ó tọ́, ṣe ìkópamọ́ rẹ̀ pẹ̀lú àwọn alálò-túnlò.


And currently we're working on oxygen -- oxygen delivery on-site.


Lọ́wọ́lọ́wọ́ yìí à ń ṣiṣẹ́ lórí èémí amísíta -- àgbékalẹ̀ èémí-àmísíta sí àye rẹ̀.


The technology for oxygen delivery is not new.


Ìmọ̀-ẹ̀rọ fún àgbékalẹ̀ èémí-amísíta ò jẹ́ tuntun.


Oxygen concentrators are very old technology.


Àkójọpọ̀ èémí-àmísíta ti di ìmọ̀-ẹ̀rọ àtijọ́.


What is new, and what we will have in a few months, I hope, is that ability to use this same renewable energy system to provide and produce oxygen on site.


Kíni tuntun, àti nǹkan tí a máa ní ní oṣù díẹ̀, mo lérò, ni ìníkàpá láti lo àwọn ẹ̀rọ agbára ìsọdọ̀tun kan náà yìí láti pèsè àti láti ṣẹ̀da èémí-amísíta sí àyè náà.


Zeolite -- it's not new -- zeolite removes nitrogen from air and nitrogen is 78 percent of air.


Síóláítì -- kìí ṣe tuntun -- síólítì máa ń yọ òyì-ilẹ̀ kúrò nínú atẹ́gùn òyi-ilẹ̀ sì jẹ́ ìdá méjì-dín-lọ́gọ́rin atẹ́gùn.


If you take nitrogen out, what's left?


Bí ẹ bá yọ òyì-ilẹ̀ kúrò, kí ló kù?


Oxygen, pretty much.


Èémí- àmísíta, ó súmọ́ bẹ́ẹ̀.


So that's not new.


Nítorí náà ìyẹn ò jẹ́ tuntun.


What we're doing is applying this technology to it.


Nǹkan tí à ń ṣe ni ìṣàmúlò ìmọ̀-ẹ̀rọ yìí sí i.


These are the basic features of my device, or our device.


Àwọn àwòmọ́ ìpìlẹ̀ ẹ̀rọ mi nìyìí, tàbí ẹ̀rọ wa.


This is what makes it so special.


Nǹkan tó mú u yàtọ̀ ni nìyí.


Apart from the awards it's won, it's portable and it's certified.


Yàtọ̀ sí àwọn àmì-ẹ̀yẹ tí a gbà, ó mọ níwọ̀n wọ́n sì fi ọwọ́ rẹ̀ sànyà.


It's registered, the MHRA -- and the CE mark, for those who don't know, for Europe, is the equivalent of the FDA in the U.


Wọ́n ṣe ìforúkọsílẹ̀ rẹ̀, MHRA -- àti àmi CE, fún àwọn tí ò mọ̀, fún ilẹ̀ Europe, ó ṣe déédé pẹ̀lú FDA ní orílẹ̀-ède US.


If you compare it with what's on the market, price-wise, size-wise, ease of use, complexity.


Bí ẹ bá ṣe àfiwé rẹ̀ pẹ̀lú àwọn nǹkan tó wà lọ́jà, ní ti owó, ní ti títóbi, rírọ̀rùn láti lò, àmúdijú.


This picture was taken last year.


Ọdún tó kọjá ni wọ́n ya àwòrán yìí.


These are members of my graduating class, 1986.


Àwọn yìí ni àwọn àwọn tí a jọ kẹ́kọ̀ọ́ jáde, ọdún 1986.


It was in this gentleman's house in the Potomac, for those of you who are familiar with Maryland.


Ilé arákùrin yìí ní Potomac ni, fún àwọn tí wọ́n mọ Maryland dijú.


There are too many of us outside and everybody, just to borrow a bit from Hans -- Hans Rosling, he's my guy -- if the size of the text represents what gets the most attention, it's the problems.


Àwa tí a wà níta pọ̀ gbogbo wa, láti yá díẹ̀ lọ́wọ Hans -- Hans Rosling, ènìyàn mi ni -- tí ìwọn àyọkà náà bá jẹ́ aṣojú nǹkan tó máa ń pe àkíyèsí jù, òun ni wàhálà.


But what we really need are African solutions that are appropriate for Africa -- looking at the culture, looking at the people, looking at how much money they've got.


Ṣùgbọ́n nǹkan tí a nílò nílẹ̀ Adúláwọ̀ ni ọ̀nà-àbáyọ tó yẹ fún ilẹ̀ Adúláwọ̀ -- tí a bá wo àṣa, tí a bá wo àwọn ènìyàn, tí a bá wo iye owó tí wọ́n ti gbà.


African people, because they will do it with a passion, I hope.


Àwọn ènìyan ilẹ̀ Adúláwọ̀, nítorí wọ́n máa fi ẹ̀mí ṣe é, mo rò bẹ́ẹ̀.


And lots and lots of that little bit down there, sacrifice.


àìmọyẹ àti àìmọye díẹ̀ tó wà nísálẹ̀ yẹn, ìfarajìn ni.


You have to do it.


Ẹ ní láti ṣe é.


Africans have to do it, in conjunction with everyone else.


Àwọn ọmọ ilẹ̀ Adúláwọ̀ ní láti ṣe é, pẹ̀lú àjọṣepọ̀ gbogbo àwọn ènìyàn tókù.


How fake news does real harm


Bí ìròyìn òfegè ṣe ń ṣọṣẹ́ gidi.


I want to tell you a story about a girl.


Mo fẹ́ sọ ìtàn kan fún yín nípa ọmọdébìnrin kan.


But I can't tell you her real name.


Ṣùgbọ́n mi ò lè sọ orúkọ rẹ̀ gangan fún yín.


So let's just call her Hadiza.


Torí náà ẹ jẹ́ ká pè é ní Hadiza


Hadiza is 20.


Hadiza jẹ́ ọmọ ogún ọdún.


She's shy, but she has a beautiful smile that lights up her face.


Ó lójútì, ṣùgbọ́n ẹlẹ́rìín ẹ̀yẹ ni tó sì máa ń mú kí ojú rẹ̀ gún régé.


But she's in constant pain.


Ṣùgbọ́n ó wà nínú ìnira àtìgbàdégbà.


And she will likely be on medication for the rest of her life.


Ó sì ṣe é ṣe kó jẹ́ wí pé yóó ma lògùn fún èyí tó kù nínú ìgbésí-ayé rẹ̀ ni.


Do you want to know why?


Ṣé ẹ fẹ́ mọ ìdí rẹ̀?


Hadiza is a Chibok girl, and on April 14, 2014, she was kidnapped by Boko Haram terrorists.


Hadiza jẹ́ ọmọdébìnrin Chibok, ní ọjọ́ kẹrìnlá oṣù Igbe ọdún 2014, àwọn agbésùmọ̀mí Boko Haram jí i gbé.


She managed to escape, though, by jumping off the truck that was carrying the girls.


Ó ráyè láti sá, bótilẹ̀ jẹ́ wí pé, pẹ̀lú fífò látinú ọkọ̀-akẹ́rù tó ń gbé àwọn ọmọdébìnrin náà ni.


But when she landed, she broke both her legs, and she had to crawl on her tummy to hide in the bushes.


Ṣùgbọ́n nígbà tó lulẹ̀, ó kán ara rẹ̀ lẹ́sẹ̀ méjééjì, ó ni láti wọ́ pẹ̀lu ikùn rẹ̀ láti sápamọ́ sínú ìgbo.


She told me she was terrified that Boko Haram would come back for her.


Ó sọ fún mi pé ẹ̀rú bà òun wí pé àwọn Boko Haram máa padà wá fún òun


She was one of 57 girls who would escape by jumping off trucks that day.


Ó jẹ́ ọ̀kan lára àwọn ọmọ mẹ́tà-dín-lọ́gọ́ta tí wọn yóò sá pẹ̀lu fífò bọ́lẹ̀ nínú àwọn ọkọ̀ akẹ́rù lọ́jọ́ yẹn


This story, quite rightly, caused ripples around the world.


Ìtàn yìí, bó ṣe yẹ, ti fa rúkèrúdò káàkiri àgbáyé.


People like Michelle Obama, Malala and others lent their voices in protest, and at about the same time -- I was living in London at the time -- I was sent from London to Abuja to cover the World Economic Forum that Nigeria was hosting for the first time.


Àwọn ènìyàn bíi Michelle Obama, Malala àti àwọn tí wọ́n ti fohùn síta ní ìfẹ̀hónúhàn, ní bíi àsìkò kan náà -- mò ń gbé ní ìlu London lásíkò náà -- wọn rán mi láti ìlu London lọ sí Abuja láti gbé Àpérò Ọrọ̀-Ajé Àgbáyé tí orílẹ̀-ède Nigeria ń gbàlejo rẹ̀ fún ìgbà àkọ́kọ́.


But when we arrived, it was clear that there was only one story in town.


Ṣùgbọ́n nígbà tí a dé, ó hàn gbangba pé ìròyìn kan ṣoṣo ló wà nígboro.


We put the government under pressure.


A ò fi ìjọba náà lára balẹ̀.


We asked tough questions about what they were doing to bring these girls back.


A bèrè àwọn ìbéèrè tó lágbára nípa nǹkan tí wọ́n ń ṣe láti gba àwọn ọmọdébìnrin wọ̀nyí padà.


"Understandably, they weren't too happy with our line of questioning, and let's just say we received our fair share of ""alternative facts."


Ó yé wa, inú wọn ò dùn pẹ̀lú àwọn ìbéèrè tí à ń bérè, e jẹ́ká kọ̀ sọ wí pé a gba ìpin tiwa nínú “arọ́pò òdodo.


Influential Nigerians were telling us at the time that we were naive, we didn't understand the political situation in Nigeria.


Àwọn ọmọ ilẹ̀ Nigeria tí wọ́n nífọ̀n-léèkán ná ń sọ fún wa ní àsìkò náà pé aláìmọ̀kan niwa, a ò ní òye òṣèlú tó ń ṣẹlẹ̀ ní orílẹ̀-ède Nigeria.


But they also told us that the story of the Chibok girls was a hoax.


Ṣùgbọ́n wọ́n tún sọ fún wa pé ète ni ìròyìn nípa àwọn ọmọdébìnrin Chibok náà.


Sadly, this hoax narrative has persisted, and there are still people in Nigeria today who believe that the Chibok girls were never kidnapped.


Ó bani nínú jẹ́, ìtàn ète yìí ń tẹ̀ síwájú, àwọn ènìyàn sì wà ní orílẹ̀-ède Nigeria lónì tí wọ́n gbágbọ́ pé wọn ò jí àwọn ọmọdẹ́bìnrin Chibok náà gbé rárá.


Yet I was talking to people like these -- devastated parents, who told us that on the day Boko Haram kidnapped their daughters, they ran into the Sambisa Forest after the trucks carrying their daughters.


Síbẹ̀ mò ń bá àwọn ènìyàn báyìí sọ̀rọ̀ -- àwọn òbí tí wọ́n ń banújẹ́, tí wọ́n sọ fún wí pé ọjọ́ tí àwọn Boko Haram wá jí àwọn ọmọbìnrin wọn gbé, àwọ́n sá tẹ̀lé ọkọ̀-akẹ́rù tó gbé àwọn ọmọbìnrin wọn wọnú igbó Sambisa.


They were armed with machetes, but they were forced to turn back because Boko Haram had guns.


Wọ́n dìhá ogun pẹ̀lú àdá, ṣùgbọ́n wọ́n ní láti padà ní tipátipá nítorí àwọn Boko Haram náà níbọn.


For two years, inevitably, the news agenda moved on, and for two years, we didn't hear much about the Chibok girls.


Fún ọdún méjì, láìyẹ̀, ìpinnu ìròyìn náà tẹ̀síwájú, fún odún méjì, a ò gbọ́ nípa àwọn ọmọdébìnrin Chibok náà.


Everyone presumed they were dead.


Gbogbo ènìyán lérò wí pé wọ́n ti kú ni.


But in April last year, I was able to obtain this video.


Ṣùgbọ́n ní oṣù Igbe ọdún tó kọjá, mo gba fọ́rán aláwòrán yìí.


This is a still from the video that Boko Haram filmed as a proof of life, and through a source, I obtained this video.


Àwòrán kan rèé lára fọ́rọ́n aláwòrán tí Boko Haram yà gẹ́gẹ́ bi ẹ̀rí ẹ̀mí, nípasẹ̀ orísun kan, mo gba fọ́rán yìí.


But before I could publish it, I had to travel to the northeast of Nigeria to talk to the parents, to verify it.


Ṣùgbọ́n kín tó ṣe ìtẹ̀jáde rẹ̀, mo ní láti rin irìnàjò lọ sí àríwá-ìlà-oòrun ilẹ̀ Nigeria láti bá àwọn òbí náà sọ̀rọ̀, láti fìdí ẹ̀ múlè.


I didn't have to wait too long for confirmation.


Mi ò ní láti dúró pẹ́ fún ìfẹsẹ̀múlẹ̀ rẹ̀.


One of the mothers, when she watched the video, told me that if she could have reached into the laptop and pulled our her child from the laptop, she would have done so.


Ọ̀kan nínú àwọn ìyá náà, nígbà tó wo fọ́rán náà, sọ fún mi pé tí òun bá lè wọnú ẹ̀rọ ayárabíàṣá àgbélétan náà kí òun sì fa ọmọ rẹ̀ jáde láti inú ẹ̀rọ-ayárabíàṣá alágbèlétan ni, òun ìbá ṣe bẹ́ẹ̀.


For those of you who are parents, like myself, in the audience, you can only imagine the anguish that that mother felt.


Fún ẹ̀yin tí ẹ jẹ́ òbí, bíi tèmi, nínú ẹ̀yin olùgbọ́, ẹ kọ̀ lè wòye ìbànújẹ́ tí ìyá yẹn ti ní.


This video would go on to kick-start negotiation talks with Boko Haram.


Fọ́rán yìí máa tẹ̀síwájú láti bẹ̀rẹ ìdúnàdúrà pẹ̀lú Boko Haram


And a Nigerian senator told me that because of this video they entered into those talks, because they had long presumed that the Chibok girls were dead.


Aṣòfin kan ní orílẹ̀-ède Nigeria sọ fún mi pé nítorí fọ́rán yìí ni àwọn ṣe ń ṣe afọ̀ wọ̀nyẹn, nítorí tipẹ́ làwọ́n ti gbà wí pé àwọn ọmọdébìnrin Chibok náà ti kú.


Twenty-one girls were freed in October last year.


Àwọn ọmọdébìnrin mọ́kànlé-lógún ni wọ́n tú sílẹ̀ ní oṣù Ọ̀wàrà odún tó kọjá.


Sadly, nearly 200 of them still remain missing.


Ó bani nínú jẹ́, ó súmọ́ igba nínú wọn tí wọ́n ṣì ń wá báyìí.


I must confess that I have not been a dispassionate observer covering this story.


Mo gbọ́dọ̀ jẹ́wọ́ wí pé mi ò tíì jáwọ́ àkíyèsí bí mo ṣe ń  gbéróyìn yìí.


I am furious when I think about the wasted opportunities to rescue these girls.


Inú ń bími nígbà tí mo bá ronú nípa àwọn àǹfààní láti gba àwọn ọmọdébìnrin wọ̀nyí padà tó ti ṣòfò


I am furious when I think about what the parents have told me, that if these were daughters of the rich and the powerful, they would have been found much earlier.


Inú ń bími nígbà tí mo bá ronú nípa nǹkan tí àwọn òbí náà ti sọ fún mi, pé tí àwọn wọ̀nyí bá jẹ́ àwọn ọmọbìnrin olówó àti alágbára ni, wọn ò bá ti ríwọn tipẹ́.


And I am furious that the hoax narrative, I firmly believe, caused a delay; it was part of the reason for the delay in their return.


Inú ń bími pé ìtàn ète náà, mo nígbàgbọ́ tó rinlẹ̀, máa ń fa ìdádúró; ó wà lára okùnfa fún ìdádúró nínú ìpadàbọ wọn.


This illustrates to me the deadly danger of fake news.


Èyí ń ṣàpèjúwe ewu aṣekúpani ìròyìn òfegè fúnmi.


So what can we do about it?


Nítorí náà kíni a lè ṣe nípa rẹ̀?


There are some very smart people, smart engineers at Google and Facebook, who are trying to use technology to stop the spread of fake news.


Àwọn ọlọ́gbọ́n ènìyán kan wà, àwọn onímọ̀-ẹ̀rọ tí wọ́n gbọ́n ní Google àti Facebook, tí wọ́n ń gbìyànjú láti fi ìmọ̀-ẹ̀rọ dá ìròyìn òfegè dúró.


But beyond that, I think everybody here -- you and I -- we have a role to play in that.


Ṣùgbọ́n ju bẹ́ẹ̀ lọ, mo rò wí pé gbogbo wa níbí -- ìwọ àti èmi -- a nípa láti kó nínú ìyẹn.


We are the ones who share the content.


Àwa ni a máa ń ṣe àtagbà àwọn àkóónú náà.


We are the ones who share the stories online.


Àwa la máa ń ṣe àtagbà àwọn ìròyìn náà lórí ẹ̀rọ ayélukára.


In this day and age, we're all publishers, and we have responsibility.


Ní ìgbà àti àkókò yìí, gbogbo wa ni atẹ̀wétà, a sì ní ojúṣe.


In my job as a journalist, I check, I verify.


Nínú iṣẹ́ mi gẹ́gẹ́ bi akọ̀ròyìn, mo máa ń ṣáyẹ̀wò, mo máa ń ṣe ìfesẹ̀múlẹ̀.


I trust my gut, but I ask tough questions.


Mo jẹ́ri ìgboyà mi, ṣùgbọ́n mo béére àwọn ìbéèrè alágbára.


Why is this person telling me this story?


Kíló dé tí ẹni yìí ń sọ ìtàn yìí fún mi?


What do they have to gain by sharing this information?


Kíni wọ́n fẹ́ jẹ lérè pẹ̀lú ṣíṣe àtagbà ìfitónilétí yìí?


Do they have a hidden agenda?


Ṣé ẹ ní ipinnu Kankan tí ẹ fi ń pamọ́?


I really believe that we must all start to ask tougher questions of information that we discover online.


Mo nígbàgbọ́ gidi gan-an wí pé a gbogbo wá gbọ́dọ̀ bẹ̀rẹ̀ síni béérè ìbéèrè alágbára nípa àwọn ìfitóniléti tí a bá ṣàwárí rẹ̀ lórí òpo ayélukára.


Research shows that some of us don't even read beyond headlines before we share stories.


Ìwádìí fi hàn pé àwọn kan nínú wa ò kí ń kà ju àkòrí lọ kí a tó ṣe àtagbà awọn ìròyìn.


Who here has done that?


Ta ni ẹni náà níbí tó ti ṣe ìyẹn?


I know I have.


Mo mọ̀ mo ti ṣe é.


But what if we stopped taking information that we discover at face value?


Ṣùgbọ́n tí a bá jáwọ́ mínú àwọn ìfitóniléti tí a ṣàwárí pẹ̀lú ìṣojúlọ́yìn ńkọ́?


What if we stop to think about the consequence of the information that we pass on and its potential to incite violence or hatred?


Bí a bá dúró láti ronú nípa ìpadàbọ àwọn ìfitónilétí tí à ń tì síwájú àti ìkápá rẹ̀ láti fa rògbòdìyàn tàbí ọ̀tá ńkọ́?


What if we stop to think about the real-life consequences of the information that we share?


Bí a bá dúró láti ronú nípa àwọn ìpadàbọ ojú aye àwọn afitóni tí à ń ṣe àtagbà rẹ̀ ńkọ́?


Thank you very much for listening.


Ẹ ṣeun gidi gan-an fún ìtẹ́tíi yín.


How we can stop Africa's scientific brain drain?


Bí a ṣe lè dèna ìgbọ́ngbẹ ọpọlọ ìmọ-ìjìnlẹ̀ nílẹ̀ Adúláwò.


So many of us who care about sustainable development and the livelihood of local people do so for deeply personal reasons.


Ọ̀pọ̀lọpọ̀ nínú wa tó nífẹ̀ sí ìdàgbàsókè alálòpẹ́ àti ìgbáyégbádùn àwọn enìyàn ìgbèríko ń ṣe é fún àǹfààní ara ẹni ni.


I grew up in Cameroon, a country of enchanting beauty and rich biodiversity, but plagued by poor governance, environmental destruction, and poverty.


Mo dàgbà ní orílẹ̀-ède Cameroon, orílẹ̀-èdè tó kún fún ẹwà àti oríṣiríṣi ojúlówó àṣà, ṣùgbọ́n tó ń ṣàìsàn pẹ̀lú ìṣèjọba tí ò da, bíba àwùjọ jẹ́, àti òṣì.


As a child, like we see with most children in sub-Saharan Africa today, I regularly suffered from malaria.


Gẹ́gẹ́ bí ọmọde, bí a ṣe ń rí pẹ̀lú ọ̀pọ̀lọpọ̀ ọmọ ní ìwò oòrun ilẹ̀ adúláwò lónì, mo máa ń ní iba ní gbogbo ìgbà.


To this day, more than one million people die from malaria every year, mostly children under the age of five, with 90 percent occurring in sub-Saharan Africa.


Títí di òní, ó lé ní àádọ́ta-ọ̀kẹ́ kan àwọn ènìyàn tí wọ́n ń kú látara ibà lọ́dọọdún, pàápàá jùlọ àwọn ọmọdé lábẹ́ ọdún márùn-ún, tí ìdá àádọ́rùn sì ń ṣẹlẹ̀ ní ìwọ̀ oòrun ilẹ̀ Adúláwọ̀


When I was 18, I left Cameroon in search of better educational opportunities.


Nígbà tí mo wà lọ́mọ ọdún méjì-dín lógún, mo fi orílẹ̀-ède Cameroon sílẹ̀ léni tó ń wá àǹfààní ètò-ẹ̀kọ́ tó dára.


At the time, there was just one university in Cameroon, but Nigeria next door offered some opportunities for Cameroonians of English extraction to be trained in various fields.


Ní àsìkò náà, fásitì kan ṣoṣo ló wà ní Cameroon níbẹ̀, Sùgbọ́n orílẹ̀-èdè Nàìjíríà  tí ó jẹ́ amúlétì wọn fún àwon ọmò Kamẹrúùnù tí wọn gbọ́ ède gẹ̀ẹ́sì ní ànfàní láti gba orísìrísì ìdánilẹ́ẹ̀kọ́


So I moved there, but practicing my trade, upon graduation as an ecologist in Nigeria, was an even bigger challenge.


Ṣùgbọ́n ṣíṣe òwò mi, lẹ́yìn tí mo kẹ́kọ̀ọ́ jáde gẹ́gẹ́ bí onímọ̀ nípa ọjọ̀ ní orílẹ̀-ède Nigeria, tún jẹ́ ìdojúkọ tó tún tóbi.


So I left the continent when I was offered a scholarship to Boston University for my PhD.


Nítorí náà mo fi ẹkùn náà sílẹ̀ nígba tí wọ́n fún mi ní ẹ̀kọ́ ọ̀fẹ́ sí Fásitì Boston fún oyè ọ̀mọ̀wé mi.


It is disheartening to see that, with all our challenges, with all the talents, with all the skills we have in Africa as a continent, we tend to solve our problems by parachuting in experts from the West for short stays, exporting the best and brightest out of Africa, and treating Africa as a continent in perpetual need of handouts.


Ó bani lọ́kàn jẹ́ láti ríi pé, pẹ̀lú gbogbo ìdojúkọ wa, pẹ̀lú gbogbo ẹ̀bun wa, pẹ̀lú gbogbo ìmọ̀ọ́ṣe tí a ní nílẹ̀ Adúláwọ̀ gẹ́gẹ́ bi ẹkùn kan, a ń yanjú àwọn ìṣòro wa pẹ̀lú mímú àwọn òjìnì wọlé láti ilẹ̀ aláwọ̀ funfun fún ìgbà díẹ̀, àti gbígbé àwọn tó dára tó sì lọ́pọlọ kúrò nílẹ̀ Adúláwọ̀, àti ṣíṣe ilẹ̀ Adúláwọ̀ bíi ẹkùn tó nílò owó ìrànwọ́.


After my training at Boston University, I joined a research team at the University of California's Institute of the Environment and Sustainability because of its reputation for groundbreaking research and the development of policies and programs that save the lives of millions of people the world over, including in the developing world.


Lẹ́yìn ẹ̀kọ́ mi ní fásiti Boston, mo darapọ̀ mọ́ ikọ̀ oníṣẹ́ ìwádìí kan ní Ilé-ẹ̀kọ Àwùjọ àti Ìmúdúró ní Fásitì California nítorí ìdánimọ̀ rẹ̀ fún ìwádìí alágbára àti ìdàgbàsókè àwọn ìpinnu àti àwọn ètò tó ń gba èmi àádọ́ta-ọ̀kẹ́ àwọm enìyàn là káàkiri àgbáyé, pẹ̀lú àwọn orílẹ̀-èdè tó ń dágbàsókè.


And it has been shown that for every skilled African that returns home, nine new jobs are created in the formal and informal sectors.


Ó sì ti fi hàn pé fún gbogbo ọmọ ilẹ̀ Adúláwọ̀ tó ní ìmọ̀ọ́ṣe tó padà sílé, iṣẹ́ tuntun mẹ́sàn yóò di dídásílẹ̀ ní ẹ̀ka gbẹ̀fẹ́ àti àìgẹ̀fẹ́.


So as part of our program, therefore, to build a sustainable Africa together, we are leading a multi-initiative to develop the Congo Basin Institute, a permanent base where Africans can work in partnership with international researchers, but working out their own solutions to their own problems.


Gẹ́gẹ́ bí ọ̀kan lára èto wa, fún ìdí èyí, láti kọ́ ilẹ̀-adúláwò alálòpẹ́ lápapọ̀, à ń léwájú àgbékalẹ̀-ọlọ́pọ̀ láti ṣe ìdàgbàsókè ilé-ẹ̀kọ Congo Basin, àyè aláìyípadà níbi tí àwọn ọmọ ilẹ̀ Adúláwọ̀ lè ṣiṣẹ́ ní àjọṣepọ̀ pẹ̀lú àwọn oníṣẹ́-ìwádìí ilẹ̀-òkèèrè, ṣùgbọ́n tí wọn yóò ma wá ònà àbáyọ tiwọn sí àwọn ìṣòro wọn.


We are using our interdisciplinary approach to show how universities, NGOs and private business can partner in international development.


À ń lo ọnà ìmúṣe oríṣiríṣi ẹ̀ka láti ṣàfihan bí àwọn fásitì, àjọ tí kìí ṣe ti ìjọba àti àwọn òwò aládàni lè ní àjọṣepọ̀ nínú ìdàgbàsókè ilẹ̀-òkèèrè.


So instead of parachuting in experts from the West for short stays, we are building a permanent presence in Africa, a one-stop shop for logistics, housing and development of collaborative projects between Africans and international researchers.


Dípò gbígbé àwọn òjìnì láti ọ̀dọ̀ awọn aláwọ̀ funfun fún ìgbà díẹ̀, à ń pèse ìdúró aláìyípadà nílẹ̀ Adúláwọ̀, ìsọ̀ kan ṣoṣo fún ohun-èlò, ilé-ìgbé àti ìdàgbàsókè àwọn iṣẹ́-àkànṣe alájọṣepọ̀ láàárín àwọn ọmọ ilẹ̀ Adúláwọ̀ àti àwọn oníṣẹ́ ìwádìí ilẹ̀ òkèèrè.


So this has allowed students like Michel to receive high-quality training in Africa.


Èyí ti jẹ́ kí àwọn akẹ́kọ̀ọ́ ó gba ojúlówó ẹ̀kọ́ nílẹ̀ Adúláwọ̀.


Michel is currently working in our labs to investigate the effects of climate change on insects, for his PhD, and has already secured his post-doctorate fellowship that will enable him to stay on the continent.


Michel ń ṣiṣẹ́ lọ́wọ́lọ́wọ́ ní àyè fún ìmọ̀-ìjìnlẹ wa láti ṣe ìwádìí àkóbá àyípadà ojú-ọjọ́ lára kòkòrò, fún oyè ọ̀mọ̀we rẹ̀, ó sì ti gba ìwé-ẹ̀rí oyè ọ̀mọ̀we rẹ̀ tí yóò fun ní àǹfààní láti dúró sí ẹkùn náà.


Also through our local help program, Dr. Gbenga Abiodun, a young Nigerian scientist, can work as a post-doctoral fellow with the Foundation for Professional Development in the University of Western Cape in South Africa and the University of California at the same time, investigating the effects of climate variability and change on malaria transmission in Africa.


Bákan náà nípasẹ̀ ètò ìrànwlọ́wọ́ agbègbe wa, Ọ̀mọ̀wé Gbenga Abiodun, ọ̀dọ́modé onímọ̀-ìjìnlẹ̀ ọmọ Nigeria, lè ṣiṣẹ́ gẹ́gẹ́ bi ọ̀mọ̀wé pẹ̀lú Ìdásílẹ̀ fún Ìdàgbàsókè Akọ́ṣẹ́mọṣẹ́ ní fásitì Western Cape ní orílẹ̀-ède South Africa àti fásitì California lásíkò kan náà, ṣíṣe ìwádìí àkóbá àìṣedédé ojú ọjọ́ àti àyípada lára àkóràn ibà nílẹ̀ Adúláwọ̀.


Indeed, Gbenga is currently developing models that will be used as an early warning system to predict malaria transmission in Africa.


Lóòótọ́, Gbenga ń ṣe àwòṣe tí wọn yóò lò gẹ́gẹ́ bi ètò ìkìlọ̀ ìpìlẹ̀ láti sọ àsọtẹ́lẹ̀ àkóràn ibà nílẹ̀ Adúláwọ̀.


So rather than exporting our best and brightest out of Africa, we are nurturing and supporting local talent in Africa.


Dípò ka máa gbé àwọn tó dára àtí àwọ́n ọlọpọlọ wa kúrò nílẹ̀ Adúláwọ̀, à ń rè a sì ń ṣe àtìlẹ́yìn ẹ̀bùn abẹ́lé nílẹ̀ Adúláwọ̀.


For example, like me, Dr. Eric Fokam was trained in the US.


Fún àpẹẹrẹ, bí èmi náà, orílẹ̀-ède US ni Ọ̀mọ̀wé Eric Fokan ti gba ìkọ́ni.


He returned home to Cameroon, but couldn't secure the necessary grants, and he found it incredibly challenging to practice and learn the science he knew he could.


Ó padà sílé ní Cameroon, ṣùgbọ́n kò rí owó ìrànwọ́ tó ṣe pàtàkì gbà, ó sì ríi gẹ́gẹ́ bi ìdojúkọ tó lágbára láti ṣe àti láti mọ ìmọ̀-ìjìnlẹ̀ tó mọ̀ pé òún lè ṣe.


So when I met Eric, he was on the verge of returning to the US.


Nígbà tí mo pàde Eric, ó ń múra láti padà sí orílẹ̀-ède US ni.


But we convinced him to start collaborating with the Congo Basin Institute.


Ṣùgbọ́n a yí ọkàn rẹ̀ padà láti bẹ̀rẹ àjọṣepọ̀ pẹ̀lú ilé-ẹ̀kọ́ Congo Basin.


Today, his lab in Buea has over half a dozen collaborative grants with researchers from the US and Europe supporting 14 graduate students, nine of them women, all carrying out groundbreaking research understanding biodiversity under climate change, human health and nutrition.


Lónìí, àyè ìṣèwádìí ọgbọ́n-ìjìlẹ̀ rẹ̀ ní Buea ní tó owó ìrànwọ́ àjọni mẹ́fà pẹ̀lú àwọn oníṣẹ́ ìwádìí láti orílẹ̀-ède US àti ilẹ̀ Europe tí wọ́n ń ṣe àtìlẹyìn fún àwọn akẹ́kọ̀ọ́-jáde 14, mẹ́sàn-án nínú wọn jẹ́ obìnrin, tí gbogbo wọn ń ṣe àwọn ìwádìí alágbára láti ní òye oríṣiríṣi ọ̀wọ́ lábẹ́ àyípadà ojú ọjọ́, ìlera ọmọ ènìyàn àti ohun tí ń fúnni ní okun.


So rather than buy into the ideas of Africa taking handouts, we are using our interdisciplinary approach to empower Africans to find their own solutions.


Dípò kí a gba èro kí ilẹ̀ Adúláwọ̀ máa gba owó ìrànwọ́, à ń lo ònà ìmúṣe oríṣiríṣi-ẹ̀ka láti ró àwọn ọmọ ilẹ̀ Adúláwọ̀ lágbára láti wá ọ̀nà àbáyọ tiwọn.


Right now, we are working with local communities and students, a US entrepreneur, scientists from the US and Africa to find a way to sustainably grow ebony, the iconic African hardwood.


Lásíkò yìí, à ń ṣiṣẹ́ pẹ̀lú àwọn àwùjọ àti àwọn akẹ́kọ̀ọ́, oníṣòwò US kan, àwọn onímọ̀-ìjìnlẹ̀ láti orílẹ̀-ède US àti ilẹ̀ Adúláwọ̀ láti wá ọ̀nà láti gbin kanran alálòpẹ́, akọni igi-líle nílẹ̀ Adúláwọ̀.


Ebonies, like most African hardwood, are exploited for timber, but we know very little about their ecology, what disperses them, how they survive in our forest 80 to 200 years.


Àwọn kanran, bíi ọ̀pọ̀lọpọ̀ àwọn igi-líle ilẹ̀ Adúláwọ, ni wọ́n ń lò fún gẹdú, ṣùgbọ́n díẹ̀ la mọ̀ nípa àjọṣepọ̀ wọn, nǹkan tó ń pín wọn ká, bí wọ́n ṣe ń yè nínú igbó wa fún ọgọ́rin sí igba ọdún.


This is Arvin, a young PhD student working in our labs, conducting what is turning out to be some cutting-edge tissue culture work.


Arvin rè é, ọdọ́mọdé akẹ́kọ̀ọ́ oyè ọ̀mọ̀wé t’ó ń ṣiṣẹ́ ní yàrá ìṣèwádìí ọgbọ́n-ìjìlẹ̀ wa, tó ń ṣe nǹkan tó ti di iṣẹ́ àṣà pádi-ààyè tó ń léwájú báyìí.


Arvin is holding in her hands the first ebony tree that was produced entirely from tissues.


Igi kanran àkọ́kọ́ tí wọ́n ṣẹ̀dá látara pádi-ààyè ni Arvin mú lọ́wọ́ yìí.


This is unique in Africa.


Ilẹ̀ Adúláwọ̀ nìkan l’ó ní èyí.


We can now show that you can produce African timber from different plant tissues -- leaves, stems, roots -- in addition from generating them from seeds, which is a very difficult task.


A wá lè ṣe àfihàn pé ẹ lè hu àwọn igi gẹdú ilẹ̀ Adúláwọ̀ látara pádi-ààyè oríṣiríṣi nǹkan ọ̀gbìn -- ewé, ìtí, gbòngbò -- ní àfikún sí ìdásílẹ̀ wọn látara èso, èyí tó jẹ́ iṣẹ́ t’ó le gidi gan-an.


So other students will take the varieties of ebony which Arvin identifies in our lab, graft them to produce saplings, and work with local communities to co-produce ebony with local fruit tree species in their various farms using our own tree farm approach, whereby we invite all the farmers to choose their own tree species they want in their farms.


Àwọn akẹ́kọ̀ọ́ t’ó kù máa mú oríṣìiríṣìi kanran tí Arvin tọ́ka rẹ̀ ní ile-ìṣèwádìí ọgbọ́n-ìjìlẹ̀ wa, lílọ́-ẹ̀ka-wọ́n-sínú-igi-mìíràn láti ṣẹ̀da àwọn igi kékeeké tuntun, kí wọ́n sì ṣiṣẹ́ pẹ̀lú àwọn agbègbè ìgbèríko láti jọ pèsè kanran pẹ̀lú àwọn igi eléso ọ̀wọ́ ọ̀tọ̀ ní àwọn oko wọn pẹ̀lú lílo ọ̀nà-ìmúṣe oko igi tiwa gangan, níbi tí a ti máa pe gbogbo àwọn àgbẹ̀ láti yan ọ̀wọ́ igi tiwọn tí wọ́n fẹ́ lórí oko wọn.


So in addition to the ebony, the species which the farmers choose themselves will be produced using our modern techniques and incorporated into their land-use systems, so that they start benefiting from these products while waiting for the ebony to mature.


Ní àfikún sí kanran, àwọn ẹ̀yà ọ̀wọ́ tí àwọn àgbẹ̀ yan fúnra wọn yóò di ṣíṣe pẹ̀lú lílo àwọn ọgbọ́n òde-òní wa a ó sì ṣàfikún rẹ̀ sínú èto lílo-ilẹ̀ wọn, kí wọ́n lè bẹ̀rẹ̀ sí í jẹ àǹfààní látara àwọn nǹkan wọ̀nyí nígbà tí wọ́n bá ń dúró de kanran náà láti dàgbà.