Kí ló dé tí ìyẹn ò ṣe sọ àwọn òṣìṣẹ wa di aláìwúlò, kí ìmọ̀ọ́ṣe wa sì lélẹ̀?


Isn't it obvious that the road to our economic and social hell is paved with our own great inventions?


Ṣé kò fojú hàn pé ojú ọ̀nà sí àpadì ọrọ̀-ajé àti àwùjọ wa ti di ṣíṣí látara ìṣẹ̀da ńlá wa?


History has repeatedly offered an answer to that paradox.


Ìtàn ti ń fún wa ní ìdáhùn sí ajọ̀ró-ṣòótọ́ yẹn ní tẹ̀lé-ń-tẹ̀lé.


The first part of the answer is that technology magnifies our leverage, increases the importance, the added value of our expertise, our judgment and our creativity.


Abala àkọ́kọ́ ìdáhùn náà ni wí pé ìmọ̀-ẹ̀rọ ti ṣe àfikún agbára wa, ti ṣe àfikún sí ìwúlò àwọn àgbà-ọ̀jẹ wa, ìdájọ́ wa àti ọgbọ́n àtinúdá wa.


That's the O-ring.


Òrùka-O náà nìyẹn.


The second part of the answer is our endless inventiveness and bottomless desires means that we never get enough, never get enough.


Apá kejì ìdáhùn náà ni pé ìṣẹ̀dá àìlópin wa àti ìfẹ́ tí ò nípẹ̀kun túmọ̀ sí wí pé kòtó, kòtó.


There's always new work to do.


Gbogbo ìgbà ni iṣẹ́ tuntun máa ń wà láti ṣe.


Adjusting to the rapid pace of technological change creates real challenges, seen most clearly in our polarized labor market and the threat that it poses to economic mobility.


Ìsúrakì sí ọ̀pọ eré àyípadà ìmọ̀ ẹ̀rọ ti pèse ìdojúkọ tòótọ́ sílẹ̀, tí à ń rí kedere lọ́pọ̀ nínú ìsọdi méjì ọjà àwọn òṣìṣẹ wa àti ewu tó ń fà fún ìlọsíwájú ọrọ̀-ajé.


Rising to this challenge is not automatic.


Ìdìde sí ìdojúkọ yìí kìí ṣe àdáṣe.


It's not costless.


Kìí ṣe pé kò ní náni lówó.


It's not easy.


Kò rọrùn.


But it is feasible.


Ṣùgbọ́n ó ṣe é ṣe.


And here is some encouraging news.


Àwọn ìròyìn tó ń fún ni ní ìwúrí rèé.


Because of our amazing productivity, we're rich.


Nítorí ìṣiṣẹ́ wa, a ti dolówó.


Of course we can afford to invest in ourselves and in our children as America did a hundred years ago with the high school movement.


Lóòótọ́ a lówó láti dókòwò nínú ara wa àti àwọn ọmọ wa gẹ́gẹ́ bí orílẹ̀-ède America ṣe ṣe ní ọgọ́rùn ọdún sẹ́yìn pẹ̀lú ìtẹ̀síwájú àwọn ilé-ẹ̀kọ́ gíga.


Arguably, we can't afford not to.


Ó ṣe é jiyàn, a ò lè tẹ̀tì láti má ṣe é.


Now, you may be thinking, Professor Autor has told us a heartwarming tale about the distant past, the recent past, maybe the present, but probably not the future.


Ní báyìí, ẹ lè máa rò ó wí pé, ọ̀jọ̀gbọ́n Autor ti sọ ìtàn atunilára fún wa nípa ìgbà pípẹ́, ìgbà tí ò tíì pẹ́, bóyá lọ́wọ́lọ́wọ́ yìí, ṣùgbọ́n bóyá kì í ṣe nípa ọjọ́ iwájú.


Because everybody knows that this time is different.


Nítorí gbogbo ènìyàn ló mọ̀ wí pé àsìkò yìí yátọ̀.


Is this time different?


Ǹjẹ́ àsìkò yìí yátọ̀?


Of course this time is different.


Bẹ́ẹ̀ ni àsìkò yìí yátọ̀.


Every time is different.


Gbogbo àsìkò ló yátọ̀.


On numerous occasions in the last 200 years, scholars and activists have raised the alarm that we are running out of work and making ourselves obsolete: for example, the Luddites in the early 1800s; US Secretary of Labor James Davis in the mid-1920s; Nobel Prize-winning economist Wassily Leontief in 1982; and of course, many scholars, pundits, technologists and media figures today.


Lọ́pọ̀ ìgbà ní igba ọdún sẹ́yìn, àwọn òmọ̀wé àti àwọn ajàfẹ́tọ̀ ti kébòsí pé a ò ní iṣẹ́ mọ́ a sì ń sọ ara wa di aláìwúlò: fún àpẹẹrẹ, àwọn onímọ̀-ẹrọ ní ìbẹ̀rẹ̀ àsìko 1800; akọ̀wé àwọn òṣìṣẹ́ fún orílẹ̀-ède US james Davis ní àárín àsìko 1920; onímọ̀ nípa ọrọ̀-ajé tó tún gba ẹ̀bùn Wassily Leontief ní ọdún 1982; bẹ́ẹ̀ sì ni, ọ̀pọ̀lọpọ̀ àwọn ọ̀mọ̀wé, ayànàná, àwọn onímọ̀-ẹ̀rọ àti àwọn agbóhùn-sáfẹ́fẹ́ lónìí.


These predictions strike me as arrogant.


Àwọn àsọtẹ́lẹ̀ wọ̀nyí bàmi bí onígbèraga.


"These self-proclaimed oracles are in effect saying, ""If I can't think of what people will do for work in the future, then you, me and our kids aren't going to think of it either."


"Àwọn tí wọ́n sọra wọn di òòṣà wọ̀nyí tí wọ́n ń sọ wí pé, ""tí mi ò bá lè ronú nípa nǹkan tí àwọn ènìyàn máa ṣe láti ríṣẹ́ lọ́jó iwájú, ìwọ, èmi àti àwọn ọmọ wa ò ní ronú nípa rẹ̀ pẹ̀lú."


""" I don't have the guts to take that bet against human ingenuity."


""" Mí o lọ́kàn láti ta tẹ́tẹ́ yẹn tako ọgbọ́n inú ọmọ ènìyàn."


Look, I can't tell you what people are going to do for work a hundred years from now.


È wò ó, mi ò lè sọ nǹkan tí àwọn ènìyàn máa ṣe láti ríṣẹ́ ní ọgọ̀rùn ọdún sí àsìkò yìí fún yín.


But the future doesn't hinge on my imagination.


Ṣùgbọ́n ọjọ́ iwájú ò gbára lé ìrònú mi.


"If I were a farmer in Iowa in the year 1900, and an economist from the 21st century teleported down to my field and said, ""Hey, guess what, farmer Autor, in the next hundred years, agricultural employment is going to fall from 40 percent of all jobs to two percent purely due to rising productivity."


"Bí mo bá jẹ́ àgbẹ̀ ní lowa ní ọdún 1900, tí àwọn onímọ̀ nípa ọrọ̀-ajé ọ̀rún odún kankàn-lé-lógún wá jáde sóri ilẹ̀ mi tó wá sọ pé, ""ìwọ, ṣé o mọ nǹkan, àgbẹ̀ Autor, ní ogọ́rùn ọdún tó ń bọ̀, ìgbanisíṣẹ́ àgbẹ̀ máa dínkù láti ìdá ogójì gbogbo iṣẹ́ sí ògéré ìdá méjì nítorí ìṣiṣẹ́ tó ń lọ sókè."


What do you think the other 38 percent of workers are going to do?


Kí lẹ rò wí pé ìdá méjì-dín-lógójì àwọn òṣìṣẹ́ yóò máa ṣe?


""" I would not have said, ""Oh, we got this."


""" mi ò bà má sọ pé, ""Óh, a mọ èyí."


We'll do app development, radiological medicine, yoga instruction, Bitmoji.


A máa ṣe ìpèse àwọn ohun-èlò, àwọn ẹ̀rọ ayàwòrán-ara fún ìṣègùn, ìkọ́ni ní yógà, Bitmojì.


I wouldn't have had a clue.


Mi ò bá ti má nì ìmọ̀ kankan.


"But I hope I would have had the wisdom to say, ""Wow, a 95 percent reduction in farm employment with no shortage of food."


"Ṣùgbọ́n mo lérò wí pé màá ní ọgbọ́n láti sọ wí pé, ""Wow, àdínkù ìdá márùn-ún-lé láàdọ́rùn nínú ìgbanisíṣẹ́ oko láìsí àdínkù oúnjẹ."


That's an amazing amount of progress.


Ìtẹ̀síwájú tó yanilẹ́nu nìyẹn.


I hope that humanity finds something remarkable to do with all of that prosperity.


Mo lérò wí pé àwọn ọmọ ènìyàn yóò rí nǹkan gidi láti ṣe pẹ̀lú gbogbo ìlàmìlaka yẹn.


And by and large, I would say that it has.


Lápapọ̀, màá sọ wí pé ó ti rí bẹ́ẹ̀.


Ẹ ṣeun púpọ̀.


A celebration of natural hair


Àjọ̀dún irun àmútọ̀run wá.


I am from the South Side of Chicago, and in seventh grade, I had a best friend named Jenny who lived on the Southwest Side of Chicago.


Mo wá láti Apá Gúúsù orílẹ̀-ède Chicago, mo sì wà ní ìpele kéje, mo ní ọ̀rẹ́dénú kan tí orúkọ rẹ̀ ń jẹ́ Jenny tó ń gbé ní Apá Gúúsù-ìwọ̀-oòrùn orílẹ̀-ède Chicago.


Jenny was white, and if you know anything about the segregated demographics of Chicago, you know that there are not too many black people who live on the Southwest Side of Chicago.


Jenny jẹ́ aláwọ̀ funfun, tí ẹ bá sì mọ nǹkankan nípa àwọn àyè tí wọ́n yà sọ́tọ̀ ní orílẹ̀-ède Chicago, ẹ mọ̀ wí pé àwọn ènìyàn dúdú ò fi bẹ́ẹ̀ gbé ní Apá Gúúsù-ìwọ̀-oòrùn orílẹ̀-ède Chicago.


But Jenny was my girl and so we would hang out every so often after school and on the weekends.


Ṣùgbọ́n Jenny ní arábìnrin mi nítorí náà a máa ń jáde papọ̀ lọ́pọ̀ ìgbà lẹ́yìn tí a bá jáde ní ilé-ẹ̀kọ́ àti ní òpin ọ̀sẹ̀.


And so one day we were hanging out in her living room, talking about 13-year-old things, and Jenny's little sister Rosie was in the room with us, and she was sitting behind me just kind of playing in my hair, and I wasn't thinking too much about what she was doing.


Ní ọjọ́ kan a jọ wà ní yàrá ìgbàlejò wọn, tí à ń sọ̀rọ̀ nípa àwọn nǹkan ọmọ ọdún mẹ́tàlá, àbúro Jenny lóbìnrin Rosie wà nínú yàrá náà pẹ̀lú wa, ó jókòó lẹ́yìn mi tí ó ń fi irun mi ṣeré, mi ò sì ronú púpọ̀ nípa nǹkan tí ó ń ṣe.


But at a pause in the conversation, Rosie tapped me on the shoulder.


Ṣùgbọ́n nígbà tí a dánu dúró díẹ̀ nínú ìfọ̀rọ̀jomitoro náà, Rosie fọwọ́ tọ́mi léjìká.


"She said, ""Can I ask you a question?"


"Ó wí pé. ""Ǹjẹ́ mo lè bi ọ́ ní ìbéèrè kan."


"I said, ""Yeah, Rosie."


"Mo ní, ""bẹ́ẹ̀ ni, Rosie."


"""Are you black?"


"""Ṣé aláwọ̀ dúdú ni ọ́ ni?"


The room froze.


Yàrá náà tutù.


Jenny and Rosie's mom was not too far away.


Ìya Jenny àti Rosie ò fi bẹ́ẹ̀ jìnọ̀ sí wa.


She was in the kitchen and she overheard the conversation, and she was mortified.


Wọ́n wà nínú ilé-ìdáná wọ́n sì ń gbọ́ ọ̀rọ wa, ojú tìwọ́n.


"She said, ""Rosie! You can't ask people questions like that."


"Wọ́n ní, ""Rosie! O ò lè ma bère irú ìbéèrè báyẹn lọ́wọ́ àwọn ènìyàn."


""" And Jenny was my friend, and I know she was really embarrassed."


""" Jenny jẹ́ ọ̀rẹ́ mi, mo sì mọ̀ wí pé ojú tìí gidi gan-an."


I felt kind of bad for her, but actually I was not offended.


Inú mi bájẹ́ nítorí tiẹ̀, ṣùgbọ́n kò ṣẹ̀mí.


I figured it wasn't Rosie's fault that in her 10 short years on this earth, living on the Southwest Side of Chicago, she wasn't 100 percent sure what a black person looked like.


"Mo rí I wí pé kìí ṣẹ ẹjọ́ọ Rosie pé ní odún kékeré rẹ̀ bíi mẹ́wà t""ó ti lò láyé, t""ó sì ń gbé ní Apá Gúúsù-ìwọ̀-oòrun orílẹ̀-ède Chicago, kò ní ìdánilójú tó pé ìda ọgọ́rùn bí ènìyàn dúdú ṣe rí."


That's fair.


Ìyẹn dára.


But what was more surprising to me was, in all of this time I had spent with Jenny and Rosie's family -- hanging out with them, playing with them, even physically interacting with them -- it was not until Rosie put her hands in my hair that she thought to ask me if I was black.


"Ṣùgbọ́n nǹkan t""ó jọmí lójú jù ni pé, ní gbogbo àsìkò tí mo ti lò pẹ̀lú ẹbí Jenny àti Rosie -- tí mò ń jáde pẹ̀lú wọn, tí mò ń báwọn ṣeré, tí mo sì ń bá wọn sọ̀rọ̀ lójúkojú -- àfi ìgbà tí Rosie fi ọwọ́ kan irun mi ni ó tó béèrè bóyá aláwọ̀ dúdú ni mí."


That was the first time I would realize how big of a role the texture of my hair played in confirming my ethnicity, but also that it would play a key role in how I'm viewed by others in society.


"Ìgbà àkọ́kọ́ nìyẹn tí mo máa mọ ipa ńlá tí ìrísí irun mi lè kó láti sọ ìran mi, pé ó tùn lè kó ipa tó ṣe pàtàkì sí bí àwọn ènìyan t""ó kù láwùjọ ṣe ń wò mi."


Garrett A.Morgan and Madame CJ Walker were pioneers of the black hair-care and beauty industry in the early 1900s.


Garrett A. Morgan àti Madame CJ Walker ni wọ́n ṣe ìdásílẹ̀ ìtójú-irun dúdú àti ilé-iṣẹ́ ìṣaralóoge ní ìbẹ̀rẹ̀ àsìko ọdún 1900.


They're best known as the inventors of chemically-based hair creams and heat straightening tools designed to permanently, or semipermanently, alter the texture of black hair.


A mọ̀ wọ́n sí olùṣẹ̀dá àwọn ìparun oní kẹ́míkà àti àwọn irinṣẹ́ ìforu na nǹkan tí wọ́n ṣe láti ṣe àyídà ìrísí irun dúdú fún gbére tàbí fúngbà díẹ̀.


"Oftentimes when we think about the history of blacks in America, we think about the heinous acts and numerous injustices that we experienced as people of color because of the color of our skin, when in fact, in post-Civil War America, it was the hair of an African-American male or female that was known as the most ""telling feature"" of Negro status, more so than the color of the skin."


"Nígbà míràn nígbà tí a bá ronú nípa ìtàn àwọn aláwọ̀ dúdú ní ilẹ̀ America, a máa ń ronú nípa àwọn ìwà burúkú àti ọ̀pọ̀lọpọ̀ àìṣedédé tí a kojú gẹ́gẹ́ bi aláwọ̀ dúdú nítorí àwọ ara wa, nígbà tó sì jẹ́ pé lóòótọ́, léyìn ogun abẹ́lé ilẹ̀ America, irun ọmọ ilẹ̀ America aláwọ̀-dúláwọ̀ lọ́kùnrin tàbí lóbìnrin ni wọ́n mọ̀ gẹ́gẹ́ bi ""àwòmọ́ asọ̀rọ̀"" ìjẹ́ aláwọ̀ dúdú, ju àwọ ara lọ."


And so before they were staples of the multibillion-dollar hair-care industry, our dependency on tools and products, like the hair relaxer and the pressing comb, were more about our survival and advancement as a race in postslavery America.


Nítorí náà kí wọ́n tó di àsopọ̀ ilé-iṣẹ́ aṣerun lóge ọlọ́pọ̀ ẹgbẹ̀rún-lọ́nà-ẹgbẹ̀rún dọ́là, àgbọ́kàn le wa lórí àwọn irinṣẹ́ àti ohun-èlò, bíi ọsẹ-irun àti ìyarun, ni à ń lò fún ìmóríbọ́ àti ìlọsíwájú gẹ́gẹ́ bí ìran kan lẹ́yìn ìkónilẹ́rú nílẹ̀ America.


Over the years, we grew accustomed to this idea that straighter and longer hair meant better and more beautiful.


Láti bí àìmọye ọdún, à ń dágbà sí mímọ èrò yìí pé irun tó nà tó sì gùn túmọ̀ sí dídára ó sì máa ń rẹwà si.


"We became culturally obsessed with this idea of having what we like to call ""good hair."


"A sọ́ èrò yìí di àṣà níní nǹkan tí a fẹ́ràn láti máa pè ní ""irun gidi."


""" This essentially means: the looser the curl pattern, the better the hair."


""" Ní pàtàkì èyí túmọ̀ sí wí pé: bí bátàni lílọ́ bá ṣe sì sí, ni irún ṣe máa dára sí."


And we let these institutionalized ideas form a false sense of hierarchy that would determine what was considered a good grade of hair and what was not.


A jẹ́ kí àwọn ìwòye àwùjọ wọ̀nyí di ọpọlọ ìpele àgbékà tí ò yẹ tí yóò máa sọ ohun tí a mọ̀ sí ìsọ̀rí irun gidi àti èyí tí ò ṣẹ.


What's worse is that we let these false ideologies invade our perception of ourselves, and they still continue to infect our cultural identity as African-American women today.


"Nǹkan t""ó tún burú jù ni wí pé a jẹ́ kí àwọn èro báyéṣerí tí ò yẹ wọ̀nyí ń kógun ja èro wa nípa ara wa, wọ́n sì ń tẹ̀síwájú láti kóbá àṣà ìdánimọ̀ wa gẹ́gẹ́ bi obìnrin Ọmọ-ilẹ̀ America Adúláwọ̀ lónìí."


So what did we do?


Torí náà kí la ṣe?


We went to the hair salon every six to eight weeks, without fail, to subject our scalps to harsh straightening chemicals beginning at a very young age -- sometimes eight, 10 -- that would result in hair loss, bald spots, sometimes even burns on the scalp.


A lọ sí ilé ìṣerunlóge ní ọ̀sẹ̀ méfà-mẹ́fà sí mẹ́jọ-mẹ́jọ, láìyẹ̀, láti jọ̀wọ awọ-orí wa fún àwọn èròjà ti kì í ṣe ti ẹ̀dá amúrunnà tí ó lágbára bẹ̀rẹ̀ láti ọjọ́ orí kékeré -- nígbà mìíràn odún mẹ́jọ, 10 -- èyí yóò yorí sí irun jíjá, pípárí, nígbà mìíràn egbò lè wà lórí awọ-orí.


We fry our hair at temperatures of 450 degrees Fahrenheit or higher almost daily, to maintain the straight look.


"À ń yan irun wa pẹ̀lú oru ti òdiwọ̀n rẹ̀ t""ó 450 tàbí jù bẹ́ẹ̀ lọ lójoojúmọ́, láti jẹ́ k""ó nà síbẹ̀."


Or we simply cover our hair up with wigs and weaves, only to let our roots breathe in private where no one knows what's really going on under there.


"Tàbí kí á kàn bo irun wa pẹ̀lú irun-àdàborí àti ẹ̀hun, láti lè jẹ́ kí gbòngbò orí wa lè mí níbi tí ẹnìkankan ò ti ní mọ nǹkan t""ó ń ṣẹlẹ̀ nísálẹ̀ ńbẹ̀."


We adopted these practices in our own communities, and so it's no wonder why today the typical ideal vision of a professional black woman, especially in corporate America, tends to look like this, rather than like this.


"A gba àwọn ìṣesí yìí ní àwùjọ tiwa, kò yàni lẹ́nu ìdí t""ó fi jẹ́ pé lónìí àfojúsùn akọ́ṣẹ́mọṣẹ́ obìnrin aláwọ̀ dúdú, pàápàá jùlọ ní America àwọn alákọ̀wé, lè rí báyìí, yàtọ̀ sí báyìí."


And she certainly doesn't look like this.


Ó dájú pé kò rí báyìí.


In September of this year, a federal court ruled it lawful for a company to discriminate against hiring an employee based on if she or he wears dreadlocks.


Ní oṣù Ọ̀wẹwẹ̀ odún yìí, ilé ẹjọ́ àpapọ̀ kan pà á láṣẹ fún ilé-iṣẹ́ kan láti má ṣe ẹlẹ́yàmẹyà nípa ìgbanisíṣẹ́ lórí bóyá ẹni náà lókùrin tàbí lóbìnrin ṣerun dàda.


"In the case, the hiring manager in Mobile, Alabama is on record as saying, ""I'm not saying yours are messy, but you know what I'm talking about."


"Ní ti ọ̀rọ náà, gbígba alámòjútó sí ilé-iṣẹ́ ẹ̀rọ-ìbáraẹni-sọ̀rọ̀, wọ́n gba ohùn Alabama sílẹ̀ tó ń sọ wí pé, ""mi ò sọ wí pé tiyín dọ̀tí, ṣùgbọ́n ẹ mọ nǹkan tí mò ń sọ nípa ẹ̀."


""" Well, what was she talking about?"


""" Ó dáa, kínni nǹkan t""ó ń sọ nípa ẹ̀?"


Did she think that they were ugly?


Ṣé ó rò wí pé wọ́n burẹ́wà ni?


Or maybe they were just a little too Afrocentric and pro-black-looking for her taste.


Àbí bóyá wọ́n ń ṣe bí ọmọ ilẹ̀ adúláwọ̀ díẹ̀ ni tí wọ́n dàbí aláwọ̀ dúdú ju bó ṣe fẹ́ lọ.


"Or maybe it's not about Afrocentricity, and it's more just about it being a little too ""urban"" for the professional setting."


"Tàbí bóyá kì í ṣe nípa Ìṣe-bí-ọmọ-adúláwọ̀, t""ó sì jẹ́ nítorí wọ́n jẹ́ ""ìgboro"" díẹ̀ fún àwùjọ àwon akọ́ṣẹ́mọṣẹ́."


"Perhaps she had a genuine concern in that they looked ""scary"" and that they would intimidate the clients and their customer base."


"Bóyá ó ní ìrònú t""ó tọ́ nípa pé ìrísí wọ́n ""banilẹ́rù"" wọn ó sì máa dẹ́rùba àwọn alájọṣe àti ẹgbẹ́ àwọn oníbàráà wọn."


All of these words are ones that are too often associated with the stigma attached to natural hairstyles.


"Gbogbo àwọn ọ̀rọ̀ wọ̀nyí jẹ́ àwọn t""ó jọ mọ́ ìdẹ́yẹsí tí ó sopọ̀ mọ́ àṣà irun àmútọ̀runwá."


And this has got to change.


Èyí sì ní láti yípadà.


In 2013, a white paper published by the Deloitte Leadership Center for Inclusion, studied 3,000 individuals in executive leadership roles on the concept of covering in the workplace based on appearance, advocacy, affiliation and association.


Ní ọ̀dún 2013, ìwé àpilẹ̀kọ ìjọba tí Deloitte Leadership Center for Inclusion tẹ̀ jáde, ṣe àyẹ̀wo ẹgbẹ̀rún 3 àwọn ènìyàn ti wọ́n wà nípò adárí ìjọba lórí èro bíbòrí níbi iṣẹ́ lórí ìrísí, ìgbàwí, ilé-iṣẹ́ tí wọ́n wà àti ẹgbẹ́.


When thinking about appearance-based covering, the study showed that 67 percent of women of color cover in the workplace based on their appearance.


Nígbà tí ẹ bá ń ronú nípa bíbòri tó níṣe pẹ̀lú ìrísí, ìwádìí náà fi hàn pé ìdá mẹ́tà-dín-láàdọ́rin àwọn obìnrin tí wọ́n jẹ́ aláwọ̀ dúdú ni wọ́n ń borí níbi iṣẹ́ nítorí ìrísí wọn.


Of the total respondents who admitted to appearance-based covering, 82 percent said that it was somewhat to extremely important for them to do so for their professional advancement.


Nínú àpapọ̀ àwọn abẹ́nà-ìmọ̀ tí wọ́n gbà fún ìborí nípa ìrísí, ìdá méjì-lé-lọ́gọ́rin sọ wí pé ó ṣe pàtàkì púpọ̀ fún wọn láti ṣe bẹ́ẹ̀ nítorí ìlọsíwájú ìkọ́ṣẹ́mọṣẹ́ wọn.


Now, this is Ursula Burns.


Ní báyìí, Ursula Burns rè é


She is the first African-American female CEO of a Fortune 500 company -- of Xerox.


Òun ni aláṣẹ àti olùdarí ọmọ ilẹ America tó jẹ́ obìnrin adúláwọ̀ fún ilé-iṣẹ́ Fortune 500 -- ti Xerox


She's known by her signature look, the one that you see here.


Àwọn ènìyán mọ̀ ọ́ fún ìrísí rẹ̀, èyí tí ẹ̀ rí níbí.


A short, nicely trimmed, well-manicured Afro.


Irun ilẹ̀ Adúláwò tó kéré, tí wọ́n gé dọ́gba dáadáa, tó rí ìtọ́jú gidi.


"Burns is what we like to call a ""natural girl."


"Burns ni a fẹ́ràn láti má ape ""ọmọbìnrin tó jẹ́ abínibí."


""" And she is paving the way and showing what's possible for African-American women seeking to climb the corporate ladder, but still wishing to wear natural hairstyles."


""" Ó ń lánà ó sì ń ṣàfihàn nǹkan tó ṣe é ṣe fún àwọn obìnrin ọmọ ilẹ̀ America tó jẹ́ adúláwọ̀ tí wọ́n ń wá láti gun àkàba alákọ̀wé, ṣùgbọ́n tó wùn wọ́n láti gbé irun abínibí wọn."


But today the majority of African-American women who we still look to as leaders, icons and role models, still opt for a straight-hair look.


Sùgbọ́n lénì púpọ̀ nínú àwọn obìnrin ọmọ ilẹ̀ America tó jẹ́ adúláwọ̀ tí a ṣì ń wò gẹ́gẹ́ bí aṣíwájú, akọni àti àwòkọ́ṣe, ṣì ń lọ fún irun nínà.


Now, maybe it's because they want to -- this is authentically how they feel best -- but maybe -- and I bet -- a part of them felt like they had to in order to reach the level of success that they have attained today.


Nísìnyìí, bóyá nítorí pé wọ́n fẹ́ ẹ bẹ́ẹ̀ ni -- bó ṣe wùn wọ́n jùlọ nìyí -- ṣùgbọ́n bóyá -- mo sì mọ̀ -- apá kan nínú wọn yóò dàbi wí pé wọ́n ní láti ṣe é láti dé ipele àṣeyọrí tí wọ́n ti dé lónì.


There is a natural hair movement that is sweeping the country and also in some places in Europe.


Ìtẹ̀síwájú irun àmútọ̀runwá kan wà tó ń lọ káàkiri orílẹ̀-èdè náà àti ní àwọn àyè kọ̀ọ̀kan nílẹ̀ Europe.


Millions of women are exploring what it means to transition to natural hair, and they're cutting off years and years of dry, damaged ends in order to restore their natural curl pattern.


Ẹgbẹ̀rún-lọ́nà-ẹgbẹ̀rún àwọn obìnrin ni wọ́n wo nǹkan tó jọ láti ta kọ́sọ́ sí irun àmútọ̀runwá, wọ́n sì ń gé irun àtọdún-mọ́dún tó ti gbẹ, tí owó rẹ̀ ti bàjẹ́ láti ṣe àdápadà bátánì lílọ́ àmútọ̀runwá


I know because I have been an advocate and an ambassador for this movement for roughly the last three years.


Mo mọ̀ nítorí pé mo ti jẹ́ agbẹnusọ àti aṣojú fún ìtẹ̀síwájú yìí fún àpapọ̀ ọdún mẹ́ta.


After 27 years of excessive heat and harsh chemicals, my hair was beginning to show extreme signs of wear and tear.


Lẹ́yìn ọdún mẹ́tà-dín-lọ́gbọ̀n ọ̀pọ̀ oru àti kẹ́míkà tó lágbára, irun mi ti bẹ̀rẹ̀ síní ṣàfihàn bíbàjẹ́ àti jíjá.


It was breaking off, it was thinning, looking just extremely dry and brittle.


Ó ń já danù, ó ń tu, ó gbẹ ó sì le gidi gan-an.


All those years of chasing that conventional image of beauty that we saw earlier was finally beginning to take its toll.


Gbogbo ọdún tí a fi ń lé àwòran ẹwà ojoojúmọ́ tí a rí níbẹ́rẹ̀ ti bẹ̀rẹ̀ síní ní ìpadàbọ̀.


"I wanted to do something about it, and so I started what I called the ""No Heat Challenge,"" where I would refrain from using heat styling tools on my hair for six months."


"Mo fẹ́ ṣe nǹkan nípa rẹ̀, nítorí náà ni mo ṣe bẹ̀rẹ nǹkan tí mop è ní ""ìpèníjà kò sí oru,"" níbi tí mo ti máa jáwọ́ nínú lílo àwọn irinṣẹ́ oru sí irun mi fún oṣù mẹ́fà."


And like a good millennial, I documented it on social media.


Bíi ẹgbẹ̀rún ọdún tó dára, mo ṣe àkójọpọ̀ rẹ̀ sórí ẹ̀rọ ayélukára


I documented as I reluctantly cut off three to four inches of my beloved hair.


Mo ṣe àkójọpọ̀ rẹ̀ bí mo ṣe ń lọ́ tíkọ̀ láti gé ínṣì mẹ́ta sí mẹ́rin irun mi tí mo fẹ́ràn.


I documented as I struggled to master these natural hairstyles, and also as I struggled to embrace them and think that they actually looked good.


Mo ṣe àkójọpọ̀ bí mo ṣe ń tiraka láti mọ àwọn ìṣọwọ́ ṣerun àmútọ̀runwa wọ̀nyí, àti bí mo ṣe ń tiraka láti gbàwọ́n mọ́ra àti láti ronú wí pé wọ́n dára


And I documented as my hair texture slowly began to change.


Mo sì ṣe àkójọpọ̀ bí ìrísí irun mi ṣe bẹ̀rẹ̀ síní yí padà.


By sharing this journey openly, I learned that I was not the only woman going through this and that in fact there were thousands and thousands of other women who were longing to do the same.


Pẹ̀lú sísọ ìrìnàjò yí síta, mo kẹ́kọ̀ọ́ wí pé èmi nìkan kọ́ ni obìnrin tó ń la èyí kọjá àti wí pé lóòótọ́ ẹgbẹ̀rún àti ẹgbẹ̀rún àwọn obìnrin mìíràn ni wọ́n wà tí wọ́n ń fojú sọ́nà láti ṣe bẹ́ẹ̀.


"So they would reach out to me and they would say, ""Cheyenne, how did you do that natural hairstyle that I saw you with the other day?"


"Wọ́n máa ń kàn sími wọ́n a sì sọ wí pé, ""Cheyenne, báwo loṣe ṣe ìṣọwọ́ ṣerun tí mo rí pẹ̀lú rẹ lọ́jọ́sí yẹn?"


What new products have you started using that might be a little better for my hair texture as it begins to change?


Èròjà tuntun wo lo ti bẹ̀rẹ̀ síní lò tó lè tún dára fún ìrísí irun mi bó bá ṣe ń yípadà?


""" Or, ""What are some of the natural hair routines that I should begin to adopt to slowly restore the health of my hair?"


""" Tàbí, ""kíni àwọn ìgbésẹ̀ irun àmútọ̀runwá tí mo gbọ́dọ̀ bẹ̀rẹ̀ síní ṣe láti ṣe àdápadà ìlera irun mi díẹ̀díẹ̀?"


""" But I also found that there were a large number of women who were extremely hesitant to take that first step because they were paralyzed by fear."


""" Ṣùgbọ́n mo tún rí i wí pé ọ̀pọ̀lọpọ̀ àwọn obìnrin ló wà tí wọ́n ń kọ̀jálẹ̀ láti gbé ìgbésẹ̀ àkọ́kọ́ yẹn nítorí pé ìbẹ̀rù ti sọwọ́n di aláìlè dìde."


Fear of the unknown -- what would they now look like?


Ìbẹ̀ru ohun tó lè ṣẹlẹ̀ -- báwo ni àwọ́n ṣe fẹ́ rí?


How would they feel about themselves with these natural hairstyles?


Báwo ni àwọ́n ṣe máa rí ara àwọn pẹ̀lú ìṣọwọ́ ṣerun àmútọ̀run wá wọ̀nyí?


And most importantly to them, how would others view them?


Nǹkan tó ṣe pàtakì sí wọn jù, irú ojú wo ni àwọn tókù yóò ma fi wò wọ́n?


Over the last three years of having numerous conversations with friends of mine and also complete strangers from around the world, I learned some really important things about how African-American women identify with their hair.


Láti bí ọdún mẹ́ta tí mo ti ń ní àsọgbà tó pọ̀ pẹ̀lú àwọn ọ̀rẹ́ mi àti àwọn aráata jákèjádò àgbáyé, mo ti kọ́ àwọn nǹkan tó ṣe pàtàkì púpọ̀ nípa bí àwọn obìnrin ọmọ ilẹ̀ America tó jẹ́ adúláwọ̀ ṣe ń di mímọ̀ pẹ̀lú irun wọn.


"And so when I think back to that hiring manager in Mobile, Alabama, I'd say, ""Actually, no."


"Nígbà tí mo bá ronú padà sí gbígba alámòjútó sí Mobile, Alabama, màá sọ wí pé, ""ní pátàkì, rárá."


We don't know what you're talking about.


A ò mọ nǹkan tí ẹ̀ ń sọ.


""" But here are some things that we do know."


""" Ṣùgbọ́n àwọn nǹkan tí a mọ̀ rèé."


We know that when black women embrace their love for their natural hair, it helps to undo generations of teaching that black in its natural state is not beautiful, or something to be hidden or covered up.


A mọ̀ wí pé tí àwọn obìnrin adúláwọ̀ bá gba ìfẹ wọn fún irun àmútọ̀runwá wọn, ó máa ṣe ìrànwọ́ láti ṣe àyọkúrò iran ìkẹ́kọ̀ọ́ wí pé aláwọ̀ dúdú nípò abínibí ò rẹwà, tàbí nǹkan tó yẹ kọ́ fi pamọ́ tàbí kí wọ́n bò.


We know that black women express their individuality and experience feelings of empowerment by experimenting with different hairstyles regularly.


A mọ̀ wí pé àwọn obìnrin adúláwọ̀ ń ṣàfihàn ìmọ̀lára àdáni àti ìrírí nípa ìrónilágbára pẹ̀lú ṣíṣe àyẹ̀wò pẹ̀lú oríṣiríṣi ìṣọ̀wọ́ ṣerun ní gbogbo ìgbà.


And we also know that when we're invited to wear our natural hair in the workplace, it reinforces that we are uniquely valued and thus helps us to flourish and advance professionally.


A sì mọ̀ wí pé nígbà tí wọ́n bá pè wá láti gbé irun àmútọ̀runwa wa wá síbi iṣẹ́, ó máa ń ṣe ìwúrí wí pé wọ́n mọyì wa gan-an yóò sì ràn wá lọ́wọ́ láti dàgbàsókè àti láti tẹ̀síwájú gẹ́gẹ́ bi akọ́ṣẹ́mọṣẹ́.


I leave you with this.


Màá fiyín sílẹ̀ pẹ̀lú èyí.


In a time of racial and social tension, embracing this movement and others like this help us to rise above the confines of the status quo.


Lásíkò ẹlẹ́yàmẹ̀yà àti àìnífọ́kànbalẹ̀ àwùjọ, gbígba ìtẹ̀síwájú yìí àti àti àwọn mìíràn bí èyí máa ń rànwá lọ́wọ́ láti gorí ìfúnpinpin bí a ṣe wà.


So when you see a woman with braids or locks draping down her back, or you notice your colleague who has stopped straightening her hair to work, do not simply approach her and admire and ask her if you can touch it -- Really appreciate her.


Nítorí náà tí ẹ bá rí obìnrin kan pẹ̀lú irun kíkó tàbí dàda tó gùn dé ẹ̀yin rẹ̀, tàbí ẹ ṣe àkíyèsí akẹgbẹ́ yín tó ti dáwọ́ nína irun rẹ̀ wá síbi iṣẹ́ dúró, ẹ má kàn lọ bá a kí ẹ má yìn ín àti kí ẹ béèrè bóyá ẹ lè fọwọ́ kàn-án nìkan -- Ẹ mọ ríri rẹ̀.


Applaud her.


Ẹ ṣá a ní àtẹ́wọ́.


Heck, even high-five her if that's what you feel so inclined to do.


Kásàà, kódà ẹ bọ̀ ọ́ lọ́wọ́ tí ó bá ṣe wí pé nǹkan tí ẹ̀mí darí yín láti ṣe nìyẹn.


Because this -- this is more than about a hairstyle.


Nítorí èyí -- èyí ju nípa ìṣọwọ́ ṣerun lọ.


It's about self-love and self-worth.


Nípa ìfẹ́ràn ara ẹni àti ìmọyì ara ẹni ni.


It's about being brave enough not to fold under the pressure of others' expectations.


Nípa níní ìgboyà láti má kàá sábẹ́ ipá ìrètí àwọn tókù ni.


And about knowing that making the decision to stray from the norm does not define who we are, but it simply reveals who we are.


Nípa mímọ̀ pé ṣíṣe ìpinnu láti yàbàrà láti àṣà náà ò ṣàpèjúwe irú èni tí a jẹ́, ṣùgbọ́n yóò ṣàfihàn irú èni tí a jẹ́.


And finally, being brave is easier when we can count on the compassion of others.


Ní ìparí, níní ìgboyà rọrùn nígbà ti a bá lè gbáralé ìkáàánú àwọn tó kù.


So after today, I certainly hope that we can count on you.


Nítorí náà lẹ́yìn ònìí, mo lérò wí pé a lè gbáralé e yín.


Your fingerprints reveal more than you think


Òntẹ̀-ìka yín ń ṣàfihàn nǹkan ju bí ẹ ṣe lérò lọ


"Do you ever stop and think, during a romantic dinner, ""I've just left my fingerprints all over my wine glass."


"Ǹjẹ́ ẹ ti ẹ̀ ti dúró kí ẹ sì ronú, lásíkò oúnjẹ-alẹ́ ìpẹ̀kínrẹ̀kí-olólùfẹ́ kan, ""mo ṣẹ̀ṣẹ̀ fi òntẹ̀-ìka mi sí gbogbo ara ife-aláwòjìjí ọtí mi ni."


Or do you ever worry, when you visit a friend, about leaving a little piece of you behind on every surface that you touch?


Àbí ṣe ẹ rò ó rí, nígbà tí ẹ bá lọ kí ọ̀rẹ yín kan, nípa fífi oríkè díẹ̀ lára yín sílẹ̀ ní gbogbo àyè tí ẹ ti fọwọ́ kàn?


And even this evening, have you paid any attention to sit without touching anything?


Kódà lálẹ́ yìí, ǹjẹ́ ẹ ti ṣe àkíyèsí jíjókò láì fi ọwọ́ kan nǹkankan?


Well, you're not alone.


Ó dáa, ẹ ò dá wà.


Thankfully, criminals underestimate the power of fingerprints, too.


Ìkúnfúnọpẹ́, àwọn ọ̀daràn ń ṣàfojúdi agbára òntẹ̀-ìka, bákan náà.


And I'm not just talking about the twisted parting of lines that make our fingerprint unique.


Mi ò sọ̀ nípa àwọn ilà lílọ́pọ̀ tí wọ́n jẹ́ kí òntẹ̀-ìka wá yátọ̀ gédéngbé nìkan.


I'm talking about an entire world of information hiding in a small, often invisible thing.


"Mò ń sọ nípa odidi àgbáramúramú ìfitóni t""ó sá pamọ́ sára nǹkan kékeré, tí ò ṣe é fojú rí lọ́pọ̀ ìgbà."


In fact, fingerprints are made up of molecules that belong to three classes: sweat molecules that we all produce in very different amounts molecules that we introduce into our body and then we sweat out and molecules that we may contaminate our fingertips with when we come across substances like blood, paint, grease, but also invisible substances.


Ní òótọ́, òntẹ̀-ìka jẹ́ àpapọ̀ àwọn ìdá-kékééké-nǹkan-tí-ó-ṣù-pọ̀ tí wọ́n wà ní ẹ̀ka mẹ́ta: ìdá-kékééké-nǹkan-tí-ó-ṣù-pọ̀ àágùn tí à ń ṣẹ́ ní iye ìdá-kékééké-nǹkan-tí-ó-ṣù-pọ̀ tó yátọ̀ tí à ń lò sínú ara wa tí a bá sì làágùn síta àti àwọn ìdá-kékééké-nǹkan-tí-ó-ṣù-pọ̀ tí ó ń ṣàkóbá etí ọmọ-ìka wa tí a bá ṣe alábàpádè àwọn nǹkan bí ẹ̀jẹ̀, ọ̀dà, gírísì, àti àwọn nǹkan àìfojúrí.


And molecules are the storytellers of who we are and what we've been up to.


Ìdá-kékééké-nǹkan-tí-ó-ṣù-pọ̀ jẹ́ asọ̀tàn nípa irú ẹni tí à ń ṣe àti àti nǹkan tí a ti ṣe.


We just need to have the right technology to make them talk.


A kọ̀ nílò láti ní ìmọ̀-ẹ̀rọ tó tọ́ láti jẹ́ kí wọ́n sọ̀rọ̀ ni.


So let me take you on a journey of unthinkable capabilities.


Ẹ jẹ́ kí n múu yín rin ìrìnàjò ìkápá aláìlérò kan.


Katie has been raped and her lifeless body has been found in the woods three days later, after her disappearance.


Wọ́n ti fipá bá Katie lájọṣepọ̀ wọ́n sì ti rí òku rẹ̀ nínú igbó, lẹ́yìn ọjọ́ mẹ́ta tí ó pòórá.


The police is targeting three suspects, having narrowed down the search from over 20 men who had been seen in that area on the same day.


Awọn ọlọ́pàá ń tọpa àwọn afurasí mẹ́ta, lẹ́yìn ìgbà tí wọ́n mú ìtọpa ìwádìí àwọn afurasí wọn wálẹ̀ láti 20 ọkùnrin tí wọ́n ti rí ní agbègbè náà lọ́jọ́ yẹn náà.


The only piece of evidence is two very faint, overlapping fingerprints on the tape that was found wrapped around Katie's neck.


Èrí kan ṣoṣo ni òntẹ̀-ìka méjì tí kò hàn rere, àgbélérawọn lórí àjábùlẹ̀ tí wọ́n wé mọ́ ọrùn Katie tí wọ́n rí.


Often, faint and overlapping fingerprints cannot help the police to make an identification.


"Lọ́pọ̀ ìgbà, òntẹ̀-ìka tí kò hàn rere, t""ó wà lórí ara wọn kò lè ran àwọn ọlọ́pàá lọ́wọ́ láti ṣe ìdánimọ̀."


And until recently, this might have been the end of the road, but this is where we can make the difference.


Àfi láìpẹ́ yìí, èyí ò bá ti jẹ òpin ọ̀nà, ṣùgbọ́n ibí tí a ti lè ṣe àtúnṣe nìyí.


The tape is sent to our labs, where we're asked to use our cutting-edge technology to help with the investigation.


"Wọ́n fi àjábùlẹ̀ náà ránṣẹ́ sí àyè fún ìmọ̀-ìjìnlẹ̀ wa, níbi tí wọ́n ti ní k""á lo ìmọ̀-ẹ̀rọ aláìlẹ́gbẹ́ wa láti ṣe ìrànlọ́wọ́ fún ìtọpinpin náà."


And here, we use an existing form of mass spectrometry imaging technology that we have further developed and adapted specifically for the molecular and imaging analysis of fingerprints.


Níbí, a lo ẹ̀dà ìmọ̀-ẹ̀rọ àṣàwòrán ẹ̀rọ igbọ̀n agbọ̀n ńlá tó wà nílẹ̀ tí a ti ṣe ìdàgbàsókè rẹ̀ síwájú síi tí a ṣe ní àdáyanrí fún ìyànàna ìdá-kékééké-nǹkan-tí-ó-ṣù-pọ̀ àti àwòran òntẹ̀-ìka.


In essence, we fire a UV laser at the print, and we cause the desorption of the molecules from the print, ready to be captured by the mass spectrometer.


"Ní pàtàkì, a bẹ́ná ìtànṣán UV sí òntẹ̀ náà, a sì mú kí ìdá-kékééké-nǹkan-tí-ó-ṣù-pọ̀ náà ó yọ kúrò lára òntẹ̀ náà, t""ó ti ṣe tán láti di yíya pẹ̀lú ẹ̀rọ òdiwọ̀n-ìbìlù àkópọ̀."


Mass spectrometry measures the weight of the molecules -- or as we say, the mass -- and those numbers that you see there, they indicate that mass.


Ẹ̀rọ òdiwọ̀n-ìbìlù àkópọ̀ máa dìwọ̀n ìwúwo ìdá-kékééké-nǹkan-tí-ó-ṣù-pọ̀ náà -- tàbí bí a ṣe sọ, ìwọn àkópọ̀ -- àti àwọn oǹkà tí ẹ̀ ń wò níbẹ̀ yẹn, wọ́n ń ṣàfihàn ìwọ̀n àkópọ̀ yẹn.


But more crucially, they indicate who those molecules are -- whether I'm seeing paracetamol or something more sinister, forensically speaking.


Ṣùgbọ́n ní pàtàkì jùlọ, wọ́n ń ṣàfihàn ẹni tí àwọn ìdá-kékééké-nǹkan-tí-ó-ṣù-pọ̀ wọ̀nyí jẹ́ -- bóyá mò ń rí paracetamol tàbí nǹkan tó tún léwu jù bẹ́ẹ̀ lọ, tí a bá ń sọ̀rọ̀ nílàna ìmọ̀-ìjìnlẹ̀.


We applied this technology to the evidence that we have and we found the presence of condom lubricants.


A sàmúlò ìmọ̀-ẹ̀rọ yìí sí èrí tí a ní a dè rí ìdúró ìmúdiyíyọ̀ rọ́bà ìdáààbòbò.


In fact, we've developed protocols that enable us to even suggest what brand of condom might have been used.


Lóòótọ́, a ti ṣe ìdàgbàsókè ìlànà-àátẹ̀lé tí yóò fún wa ní àǹfààní láti dábàá irú rọ́bà ìdáààbòbò tí wọ́n lò.


So we pass this information to the police, who, meanwhile, have obtained a search warrant and they found the same brand of condom in Dalton's premises.


A fi afitóni yìí ránṣẹ́ sí àwọn ọlọ́pàá, tí wọ́n, láímọ̀, ti gba àṣẹ láti túlé wọ́n sì ti rí irú rọ́bà idáààbòbò yìí kan náà ní àyíká ilé Dalton.


And with Dalton and Thomson also having records for sexual assaults, then it is Chapman that may become the less likely suspect.


Pẹ̀lú pé Dalton àti Thomson tún ní àkọsílẹ̀ ìfipábánilòpọ̀, a jẹ́ wí pé Chapman ló lè di ẹni tí a lè má furasí púpọ̀


But is this information enough to make an arrest?


Ṣùgbọ́n ṣe afitóni yìí tó láti fi àṣẹ ọba mú?


Of course not, and we are asked to delve deeper with our investigation.


Rárá, wọ́n sì sọ fún wa pé ká túṣu désálẹ̀ ìkòkò pẹ̀lú ìwádìí wa.


So we found out, also, the presence of other two very interesting molecules.


A ṣàwárí rẹ̀, bákan náà, ìdúró àwọn ìdá-kékééké-nǹkan-tí-ó-ṣù-pọ̀ méjì tó yanilẹ́nu.


One is an antidepressant, and one is a very special molecule.


Ọ̀kan jẹ́ apa-ìrẹ̀wẹ̀sì-ọkàn, ọ̀kan sì jẹ́ ìdá-kékééké-nǹkan-tí-ó-ṣù-pọ̀ molecule tó yátọ̀ gidi gan-an.


It only forms in your body if you drink alcohol and consume cocaine at the same time.


Ó máa ń dì sára nígbà tí ẹ bá mu ọtí tàbí lo oògùn-olóró lásíkò kan náà.


And alcohol is known to potentiate the effects of cocaine, so here, we now have a hint on the state of mind of the individual whilst perpetrating the crime.


"A sì mọ ọtí pé ó máa ń ṣe ìrólágbára fún ipa oògùn-olóró, nítorí náà níbí, a ti ní afitóni nípa ipò ẹ̀mí ẹni náà nígbà t""ó ń hu ìwà ọ̀daràn náà."


We passed this information to the police, and they found out that, actually, Thomson is a drug addict, and he also has a medical record for psychotic episodes, for which presumably the antidepressant was prescribed.


A fi afitóni yìí ránṣẹ́ sí àwọn ọlọ́pàá, wọ́n ṣàwárí rẹ̀ pé, lóòótọ́, Thomson kúndùn oògùn-olóró, ó sì ní àkọsílẹ̀ ìwòsàn agàná, fún èyì tó ṣe wí pé bóyá torí rẹ̀ ni wọ́n ṣe ṣe àṣàyàn apa-ìrẹ̀wẹ̀sì-ọkàn.


So now Thomson becomes the more likely suspect.


Ní báyìí Thomson ti di afurasí tó ṣe é ṣe.


But the reality is that I still don't know where these molecules are coming from, from which fingerprint, and who those two fingerprints belong to.


Ṣùgbón òdodo ibẹ̀ ni wí pé mi ò tíì mọ ibi tí àwọn ìdá-kékééké-nǹkan-tí-ó-ṣù-pọ̀ wọ̀nyí ti ń wá, láti òntẹ̀-ìka wo, àti eni tí àwọn òntẹ̀-ìka méjì yìí jẹ́ tirẹ̀.


Fear not.


Ẹ má bẹ́rù.


Mass spectrometry imaging can help us further.


Ẹ̀rọ igbọ̀n agbọ̀n ńlá lè ràn wá lọ́wọ́ síwájú síi.


In fact, the technology is so powerful that we can see where these molecules are on a fingerprint.


Lódodo, ìmọ̀-ẹ̀rọ náà lágbára gidi gan-an débi wí pé a lè rí ibi tí àwọn ìdá-kékééké-nǹkan-tí-ó-ṣù-pọ̀ wọ̀nyí wà lórí òntẹ̀-ìka.


Like you see in this video, every single one of those peaks corresponds to a mass, every mass to a molecule, and we can interrogate the software, by selecting each of those molecules, as to where they are present on a fingermark.


Gẹ́gẹ́ bí ẹ ṣe rí i nínú fọ́rán yìí, ọ̀kọ̀ọ̀kan àwọn tí wọ́n gajù wọ̀nyẹn túmọ̀ sí ìwọ̀n-okun, ìwọ̀n-okun kọ̀ọ̀kan sí ìdá-kékééké-nǹkan-tí-ó-ṣù-pọ̀ kan, a sì lè fi ọ̀rọ̀ wá ohun-èlo ẹ̀rọ-ayárabíàṣá tí ò ṣe é fọwọ́ kàn náà lẹ́nu wò, pẹ̀lú mímú ìkọ̀ọ̀kan àwọn ìdá-kékééké-nǹkan-tí-ó-ṣù-pọ̀ wọ̀nyẹn, nípa ibi tí wọ́n wà lórí àpá-ìka náà.


And some images are not very revealing, some are better, some are really good.


Àwọn àwòràn kan ò kí ń f'ara hàn dáadáa, àwọn kan dára, àwọn kan dára gidi gan-an.


And we can create multiple images of the same mark -- in theory, hundreds of images of the same fingerprint -- for as many of the molecules that we have detected.


A ṣẹ̀dá ọ̀pọ̀ àwòrán àpá kan náà -- ní tíọ́rì, ọgọ́rùn àwòran òntẹ̀-ìka kan náà -- fún gbogbo iye ìdá-kékééké-nǹkan-tí-ó-ṣù-pọ̀ tí a ti rí.


So step one for overlapping fingerprints, chances are, especially if they come from different individuals, that the molecular composition is not identical, so let's ask the software to visualize those unique molecules just present in one fingermark and not in the other one.


"Ìgbésẹ̀ àkọ́kọ́ fún òntẹ̀-ìka tó gorí ara wọn, àǹfààní ni pé, pàápàá jùlọ tí wọ́n bá wá látara oríṣiríṣi ènìyàn, pé ìṣẹ̀da ìdá-kékééké-nǹkan-tí-ó-ṣù-pọ̀ náà kò jọra wọn, nítorí náà ẹ jẹ́ k""á béèrè lọ́wọ́ ohun-èlo ẹ̀rọ-ayárabíàṣá tí ò ṣe é fọwọ́ kàn láti wo àwọn ìdá-kékééké-nǹkan-tí-ó-ṣù-pọ̀ aṣèyàtò tó wà nínú òntẹ̀-ìka kan tí ò sí ní ìkejì."


By doing so, that's how we can separate the two ridge patterns.


Pẹ̀lú ṣíṣe bẹ́ẹ̀, bí a ṣe lè ṣe ìyàsọ́tọ̀ bátánì etíi méjééjì nìyẹn.


And this is really important because the police now are able to identify one of the two fingerprints, which actually corresponds to Katie.


Èyí sì ṣe pàtàkì nítorí àwọn ọlọ́pàá lè tọ́ka sí ọ̀kan nínú òntẹ̀-ìka méjééjì báyìí, tó bá ti Katie mu.


And they've been able to say so because they've compared the two separate images with one taken posthumously from Katie.


Wọ́n ti lè sọ bẹ́ẹ̀ nítorí pé wọ́n ti fi àwòrá méjì ọ̀tọ̀ọ̀tọ̀ náà wéra wọn pẹ̀lú ìkan tí wọ́n mú látara òku Katie.


So now, we can concentrate on one fingerprint only -- that of the killer's.


Ní báyìí, a lè gbájúmọ́ òntẹ̀-ìka kan ṣoṣo -- tó jẹ́ ti aṣekúpani yẹn.


So then, step two where are these three molecules that I've seen?


Lẹ́yìn náà, ìgbésẹ̀ kejì àwọn ìdá-kékééké-nǹkan-tí-ó-ṣù-pọ̀ mẹ́ta wọ̀nyí tí mo ti rí yìí dà?


Well, let's interrogate the software -- show me where they are.


"Ó dáa, ẹ jẹ́ k""á fi ọ̀rọ̀ wá ohun-èlo ẹ̀rọ-ayárabíàṣá tí ò ṣe é fọwọ́ kàn náà lẹ́nu wò -- fi ibi tí wọ́n wà hàn mí."


And by doing this, only portions of the image of the killer's fingerprint show up.


"Pẹ̀lú ṣíṣe èyí, apá kan àwòrán òntẹ̀-ìka aṣekúpani náà nìkan l""ó hàn."


In other words, those substances are only present in the killer's print.


Ìyẹn ni wí pé, àwọn nǹkan wọ̀nyẹn wà nínú òntẹ̀ aṣekúpani náà nìkan ni.


So now our molecular findings start matching very nicely the police intelligence about Thomson, should that fingerprint belong to him.


Ní báyìí aṣàwárí ìdá-kékééké-nǹkan-tí-ó-ṣù-pọ̀ wa bẹ́rẹ̀ síní bá ìwádìí àwọn olọ́pà nípa Thomson mu dáadáa, tí ó bá jẹ́ wí pé òun ló ni òntẹ̀-ìka yẹn.


But the reality is that that print is still not good enough to make an identification.


Ṣùgbọ́n òtítọ́ ibẹ̀ ni wí pé ọ̀ntẹ̀ yẹn ò tíì dára tó láti ṣe ìdánímọ̀.


Step three: since we can generate hundreds of images of the same fingerprint, why don't we superimpose them, and by doing so, try to improve the rich pattern of continuity and clarity?


Ìgbésẹ̀ kẹ́ta: nígbà tó jé wí pé a lè ṣẹ̀da ọgọ́rùn àwòrán òntẹ̀ ìka kan náà, kí ló dé tí a ò gbé wọn sórí ara wọn, tí a bá ṣe bẹ́ẹ̀, ká gbìyànjú láti ṣe àfikún bátánì ìtẹ̀síwájú àti ìfojúhàn tó kún?


That's the result.


Èsì náà nìyẹn.


We now have a very clear image of the fingerprint and the police can run it through the database.


A ti wá ní àwòrán òntẹ̀-ìka tó hàn kedere àwọn ọlọ́pàá sì le lò ó lórí àká-ìwífún-alálàyé.


The match comes out to Thomson.


Ìbámu náà jáde sí ti Thomson.


Thomson is our killer.


Thomson ni aṣekúpani wa.


Katie, the suspects and the circumstances of the crime aren't real, but the story contains elements of the real police casework we've been confronted with, and is a composite of the intelligence that we can provide -- that we have been able to provide the police.


Katie, afurasí náà àti àwọn nǹkan tó rọ̀ mọ́ ìwà-ọ̀daràn náà kìí ṣe tòótọ́, ṣùgbọ́n ìtàn náà ní àwọn ọmọlẹ̀ iṣẹ́-ìwádìí ọlọ́pàá tòótọ́ tí a ti kojú rẹ̀, ó sì jẹ́ ẹ̀ka ìwádìí tí a lè pèsè -- tí a ti pèsè fún àwọn olọ́pàá.


And I'm really, really thrilled that after nine years of intense research, as of 2017, we are able to contribute to police investigations.


Inú mi sì ń dùn gidi gan-an pé lẹ́yìn ọdún mẹ́sàn ìwádìí alágbára, ní ọdún 2017, a ní àǹfààní láti dásí ìtọpinpin àwọn ọlọ́pàá.


Mine is no longer a dream; it's a goal.


Tèmi kìí ṣe àlá mọ́; ìpinnu ni.


We're going to do this wider and wider, bigger and bigger, and we're going to know more about the suspect, and we're going to build an identikit.


A máa ṣe èyí ní fífẹ̀ àti fífẹ̀, ńlá àti ńlá, a sì ma nímọ̀ si nípa afurasí náà, a sì ma ṣẹ̀dá ẹ̀rọ-ìdánimọ̀.


I believe this is also a new era for criminal profiling.


Mo nígbàgbọ́ pé ìgbà ọ̀tun ni èyí fún ṣíṣe àkọsílẹ̀ ìwà-ọ̀daràn.


The work of the criminologist draws on the expert recognition of behavioral patterns that have been observed before to belong to a certain type, to a certain profile.


Iṣẹ́ ìwádìí ìwà ọ̀daràn máa ń lo ìdámọ̀ àgbà-ọ̀jẹ̀ nípa bátánì ìhùwàsí tí wọ́n ti ṣàkíyèsí tẹ́lẹ̀ pé ó jẹ́ ti ẹ̀yà kan, sí àkọsílẹ̀ kan.


As opposed to this expert but subjective evaluation, we're trying to do the same thing, but from the molecular makeup of the fingerprint, and the two can work together.


Ní àtakò sí àgbà-ọ̀jẹ̀ yìí ṣùgbọ́n ní aṣègbè ìgbéléwọ̀n, à ń gbìyànjú láti ṣe nǹkan kan náà, ṣùgbọ́n látara ìdá-kékééké-nǹkan-tí-ó-ṣù-pọ̀ tó papọ̀ di òntẹ̀-ìka, méjééì sì lè ṣiṣẹ́ papọ̀.


I did say that molecules are storytellers, so information on your health, your actions, your lifestyle, your routines, they're all there, accessible in a fingerprint.


Mo sọ wí pé àwọn ìdá-kékééké-nǹkan-tí-ó-ṣù-pọ̀ jẹ́ asọ̀tàn, nítorí náà àwọn afitóni nípa ìlera yín, ìṣesí yín, ìgbeayé yín, iṣẹ́ yín, gbogbo wọn ló wà níbẹ̀, tó ṣe é wò nínú òntẹ̀-ìka kan.


And molecules are the storytellers of our secrets in just a touch.


Àwọn ìdá-kékééké-nǹkan-tí-ó-ṣù-pọ̀ jẹ́ asọ̀tàn nípa àṣírí wa pẹ̀lú ìfọwọ́kàn kan.


(Audience) Wow.


(Àwọn ònwòran) Wow.


Our immigration conversation is broken - here's how to have a better one


Asọgbà ìwọlé látókère wa ti fọ́ - bí a ṣe lè ní èyí tó dára rè é.


We often hear these days that the immigration system is broken.


A máa ń gbọ́ lọ́pọ̀ ìgbà lásíkò yìí pé èto ìwọlé látókèèrè ti fọ́.


I want to make the case today that our immigration conversation is broken and to suggest some ways that, together, we might build a better one.


Mo fẹ́ ṣe ìpẹ̀jọ́ lónì pé àsọgbà ìwọlé látókèère wa ti fọ́ àti láti dábàá àwọn ọ̀nà tí, lápapọ̀, a lè pèsè èyí tó dára.


In order to do that, I'm going to propose some new questions about immigration, the United States and the world, questions that might move the borders of the immigration debate.


Láti lè ṣe ìyẹn, màá dábàá àwọn ìbéèrè tuntun nípa ìwọlé látókèèrè, orílẹ̀-ède United States àti àgbáyé, àwọn ìbéèrè tí ó lè sún àríyànjiyàn ibodè ìwọlé látókèrè.


I'm not going to begin with the feverish argument that we're currently having, even as the lives and well-being of immigrants are being put at risk at the US border and far beyond it.


Mi ò ní bẹ́rẹ̀ pẹ̀lú àríyànjiyàn tó ń ṣòjòjò tí à ń ní lọ́wọ́lọ́wọ́ yìí, kódà bí ìgbéayé àti ìgbáyégbádùn àwọn aṣíkiri ṣe ń wà nínú ewu ní enu-ibodè orílẹ̀-ède US àti jù bẹ́ẹ̀ lọ.


Instead, I'm going to begin with me in graduate school in New Jersey in the mid-1990s, earnestly studying US history, which is what I currently teach as a professor at Vanderbilt University in Nashville, Tennessee.


Dípò bẹ́ẹ̀, màá bẹ̀rẹ̀ pẹ̀lú ara mi ní ilé-ẹ̀kọ́ akẹ́kọ̀ọ́-jáde ní New Jersey ní àrín àsìko 1990, tí mò ń kẹ́kọ̀ọ́ nípa ìtan orílẹ̀-ède US, tó jẹ́ nǹkan tí mò ń kọ́ lọ́wọ́lọ́wọ́ gẹ́gẹ́ bi ọjọ̀gbọ́n ní fásitì Vanderbilt ní Nashville, Tennessee.


And when I wasn't studying, sometimes to avoid writing my dissertation, my friends and I would go into town to hand out neon-colored flyers, protesting legislation that was threatening to take away immigrants' rights.


Nígbà tí mi ò bá kẹ́kọ̀ọ́, nígbà míràn láti sá fún kíkọ àpilẹ̀kọ àbọ̀ ìwádìí mi, èmi àti àwọn ọ̀rẹ́ mi máa wọ ìgboro lọ láti lọ fún àwọn ènìyàn ní ìwé-ìléwọ́ alárà-n-bara àwọ̀, tó ń fi èhónú han sí òfin tó ń dúkokò láti gba ẹ̀tọ́ àwọn aṣíkiri.


Our flyers were sincere, they were well-meaning, they were factually accurate.


Àwọn ìwé ìléwọ́ wa ṣòótọ́, wọ́n nítumọ̀ gidi, wọ́n péye ní òtítọ́.


But I realize now, they were also kind of a problem.


Ṣùgbọ́n ó wá yémi báyìí, wọ́n tún fẹ́ẹ̀ jẹ́ oríṣi wàhálà kan.


"Here's what they said: ""Don't take away immigrant rights to public education, to medical services, to the social safety net."


"Nǹkan tí wọ́n sọ rè é: ""ẹ má gba ẹ̀tọ́ àwọn aṣíkiri sí ẹ̀kọ́ gbogbogbò, sí ètò ìlere, sí àwọ̀n ààbò àwùjọ."


They work hard.


Wọ́n ń ṣiṣẹ́ kárakára.


They pay taxes.


Wọ́n ń sanwó-orí.


They're law-abiding.


Wọ́n ń tẹ̀lé òfin.


They use social services less than Americans do.


Wọ́n ò lo àwọn ilé-iṣẹ́ àwùjọ tó bí àwọn ọmọ ilẹ̀ America ṣe ń lò ó.


They're eager to learn English, and their children serve in the US military all over the world.


Wọ́n nífẹ̀ láti kọ́ ède gẹ̀ẹ́sì, àwọn ọmọ wọn sì ń sìnrú-ìlú nínú ikọ̀ ọmọ-ogun orílẹ̀-ède US káàkiri àgbáyé.


""" Now, these are, of course, arguments that we hear every day."


""" Báyìí, àwọn wọ̀nyí ni, bẹ́ẹ̀ ni, àwọn àríyànjiyàn tí à ń gbọ́ lójoojúmọ́."


Immigrants and their advocates use them as they confront those who would deny immigrants their rights or even exclude them from society.


Àwọn aṣíkiri àti àwọn agbẹnusọ wọn ń lò wọ́n láti fi kojú àwọn tí wọn yóò fi ẹ̀tọ́ àwọn aṣíkiri dú wọ́n tàbí tí wọ́n fẹ́ yọ wọ́n kúrò nínú àwùjọ.


And up to a certain point, it makes perfect sense that these would be the kinds of claims that immigrants' defenders would turn to.


Dé ìpele kan, ó mú ọpọlọ dání pé àwọn wọ̀nyí yóò jẹ́ irú àwíjàre tí àwọn tí wọ́n ń gbè lẹ́yìn àwọn aṣíkiri máa kọjú sí.


But in the long term, and maybe even in the short term, I think these arguments can be counterproductive.


Ṣùgbọ́n nígbà pípẹ́, àti bóyá lásíkò díẹ̀, mo rò wí pé àwọn àríyànjiyàn wọ̀nyí lè díra wọn lọ́wọ́.


Because it's always an uphill battle to defend yourself on your opponent's terrain.


Torí ogun tó lágbára ló máa ń jẹ́ láti gbèja ara yín ní agbègbe alátakò yín.


And, unwittingly, the handouts my friends and I were handing out and the versions of these arguments that we hear today were actually playing the anti-immigrants game.


pẹ̀lú àìmọ̀kan, ìwé-ìléwọ́ tí èmi àti àwọn ọ̀rẹ́ mi ń fún àwọn ènìyàn àti ẹ̀dà àwọn àríyànjiyàn wọ̀nyí tí à ń gbọ́ lóni ń tayò atako-aṣíkiri ni.


We were playing that game in part by envisioning that immigrants were outsiders, rather than, as I'm hoping to suggest in a few minutes, people that are already, in important ways, on the inside.


À ń ta ayò yẹn lóríkè pẹ̀lú ojú-ìwòye pé aráàta ni àwọn aṣíkiri, yàtọ̀ sí pé, bí mo ṣe ń lérò láti dá lábà ní ìṣẹ́jú díẹ̀, àwọn ènìyàn tí wọ́n ti, ní àwọn ọ̀nà tó ṣe pàtàkì, wà nínú ilé tẹ́lẹ̀.


It's those who are hostile to immigrants, the nativists, who have succeeded in framing the immigration debate around three main questions.


Àwọn tí wọ́n ń dẹ́yẹsí àwọn aṣíkiri, àwọn alátìlẹyìn ọmọ-ìlú, tí wọ́n ti ṣàṣeyọrí níbi síso àríyànjiyàn ìwọlé látókèrè mọ́ kókó ìbéèrè mẹ́ta.


First, there's the question of whether immigrants can be useful tools.


Àkọ́kọ́, ìbéèrè kán wà nípa bóyá àwọn aṣíkiri lè di irinṣẹ́ tó wúlò.


How can we use immigrants?


Báwo la ṣe lè lo àwọn aṣíkiri?


Will they make us richer and stronger?


Ṣé wọ́n máa jé ká lówó ká sì tún lágbára síi?


The nativist answer to this question is no, immigrants have little or nothing to offer.


Ìdáhùn àwọn alátìlẹyìn ọmọ ìlú sí ìbéèrè yìí ni rárá, àwọn aṣíkiri ní díẹ̀ tàbí wọn ò ní nǹkankan láti fún wa.


The second question is whether immigrants are others.


Ìbéèrè kejì ni wí pé bóyá àwọn aṣíkiri jẹ́ àwọn tókù.


Can immigrants become more like us?


Ǹjẹ́ àwọn aṣíkiri lè di ara wa?


Are they capable of becoming more like us?


Ṣé wọ́n níkàpá láti dàbi wa?


Are they capable of assimilating?


Ṣé wọ́n níkàpá láti farajọwá?


Are they willing to assimilate?


Ṣé wọ́n ṣe tán láti farajọwá?


Here, again, the nativist answer is no, immigrants are permanently different from us and inferior to us.


Níbí, lẹ́ẹ̀kan síi, ìdáhùn àwọn alátìlẹyìn ọmọ-ìlú ni rárá, àwọn aṣíkiri yátọ̀ pátápátá sí wa wọ́n sì kéré síwa.


And the third question is whether immigrants are parasites.


Ìbéèrè kẹ́ta ni bóyá àwọn aṣíkiri jẹ́ ajọ̀fẹ́.


Are they dangerous to us?


Ṣé wọ́n léwu fún wa?


And will they drain our resources?


Ṣé wọ́n máa gbọ́n ohun-àlùmọ́nì wa gbẹ?


Here, the nativist answer is yes and yes, immigrants pose a threat and they sap our wealth.


Níbí, ìdáhùn àwọn ọmọ ìlú ni bẹ́ẹ̀ ni àti bẹ́ẹ̀ ni, àwọn aṣíkiri lè fa ewu wọ́n sì ń gbọ́n ọrọ̀ọ wa gbẹ.


I would suggest that these three questions and the nativist animus behind them have succeeded in framing the larger contours of the immigration debate.


Máa dá a lábà wí pé àwọn ìbéèrè mẹ́ta wọ̀nyí àti ìpinnu àwọn alátìlẹyin ọmọ-ìlú tó wà lẹ́yìn wọn ti ṣe aṣeyọrí níbi ṣíṣe àwọn igun ńlá nípa àríyànjiyàn ìwọlé látókèrè.


These questions are anti-immigrant and nativist at their core, built around a kind of hierarchical division of insiders and outsiders, us and them, in which only we matter, and they don't.


Àwọn ìbéèrè wọ̀nyí jẹ́ atako-àwọn aṣíkiri àti àwọn alátìlẹyìn ọmọ ìlú paraku, tí wọ́n sopọ̀ mọ́ ìpín onípele àgbékà àwọn arálé àti aráàta, àwa àti àwọn, tó jẹ́ wí pé àwa la ṣe pàtàkì jùlọ, tí àwọn ò sì rí bẹ́ẹ̀.


And what gives these questions traction and power beyond the circle of committed nativists is the way they tap into an everyday, seemingly harmless sense of national belonging and activate it, heighten it and inflame it.


Nǹkan tó ń fún àwọn ìbéèrè wọ̀nyí ní òkìkí àti agbára tayọ ẹgbẹ́ àwọn alátìlẹyìn ọmọ-ìlú tí wọ́n ní àfọkànsìn ni bí wọ́n ṣe ń pín nínú òye àjọgbépọ̀ àpapọ̀ ojoojúmọ́ tí ò léwu tí wọ́n sì ń ṣàmúlò rẹ̀, tí wọ́n ń gbé e sókè tí wọ́n sì ń fún-un lágbára.


Nativists commit themselves to making stark distinctions between insiders and outsiders.


Àwọn alátìlẹyìn ọmọ-ìlú ti jọ̀wọ́ ara wọn fún ṣiṣe ìyàtọ̀ tó fojú hàn láàárín aráalé àti aráàta.


But the distinction itself is at the heart of the way nations define themselves.


Ṣùgbọ́n ìyàtọ̀ náà fún ra rẹ̀ wà ní gbùngun ọ̀nà tí àwọn orílẹ̀-èdè ń gbà ṣe àpèjúwe ara wọn.


The fissures between inside and outside, which often run deepest along lines of race and religion, are always there to be deepened and exploited.


Ìyàtọ̀ tó wà láàárín inú àti ìta, to ṣe wí pé lọ́pọ̀ ìgbà o máa ń sá wọ ojú ọ̀nà ìran àti ẹ̀sìn, máa ń wà níbẹ̀ láti jinú àti láti di àmúlò.


And that potentially gives nativist approaches resonance far beyond those who consider themselves anti-immigrant, and remarkably, even among some who consider themselves pro-immigrant.


Ìyẹn sì ń fún àwọn alátìlẹyìn ọmọ ìlú ní ọ̀nà-ìmúṣe alátapadà tayọ àwọn tí wọ́n ríra wọn bíi atako àwọn aṣíkiri, àti lílù lọ́gọ-ẹnu, kódà láàárín àwọn kan tí wọ́n ríra wọn gẹ́gẹ́ bi alátìlẹyìn àwọn aṣíkiri.


So, for example, when Immigrants Act allies answer these questions the nativists are posing, they take them seriously.


Fún àpẹẹrẹ, nígbà tí àwọn alátìlẹyìn ìwé-òfin àwọn aṣíkiri dáhùn àwọn ìbéèrè tí àwọn alátìlẹyin ọmọ-ìlú ń gbé jáde wọ̀nyí, wọ́n mú wọn lọ́kùkúdùn.


They legitimate those questions and, to some extent, the anti-immigrant assumptions that are behind them.


Wọ́n sọ àwọn ìbéèrè wọ̀nyí di òfin àti, dé àwọn àyè kan, ìmọ̀ọ́nú àwọn atako-aṣíkiri tí wọ́n wà lẹ́yìn wọn.


When we take these questions seriously without even knowing it, we're reinforcing the closed, exclusionary borders of the immigration conversation.


Bí a bá mú àwọn ìbéèrè wònyí lọ́kùnkúndùn láìnímọ̀ nípa ẹ̀, à ń ṣe ìwúrí fún títì, àyọkúrò àsọgbà ibodè ìwọlé látókèrè.


So how did we get here?


Torí náà báwo la ṣe débí?


How did these become the leading ways that we talk about immigration?


Báwo ni àwọn wọ̀nyí ṣe di ònà tó ń léwájú tí a fi ń sọ̀rọ̀ nípa ìwọlé látókèrè?


Here, we need some backstory, which is where my history training comes in.


Níbí, a nílò àwọn ìtàn-ìpìlẹ̀, tó jẹ́ ibi tí ìdánilẹ́kọ̀ ìtàn mi yóò ti wọlé.


During the first century of the US's status as an independent nation, it did very little to restrict immigration at the national level.


Lásíkò ọrún ọdún àkọ́kọ́ ipò orílẹ̀-ède US gẹ́gẹ́ bi orílẹ̀-ède olómìnira, ó ṣe díẹ̀ láti ṣe ìdíwọ́ ìwọlé látókèrè ní ìpele orílẹ̀-èdè.


In fact, many policymakers and employers worked hard to recruit immigrants to build up industry and to serve as settlers, to seize the continent.


Ní tòótọ́, ọ̀pọ̀lọpọ̀ àwọn aṣòfin àti àwọn òṣìṣẹ́ ń ṣiṣẹ́ kárakára láti gba àwọn aṣíkiri láti ṣẹ̀dá ilé-iṣẹ́ àti láti ṣiṣẹ́ gẹ́gẹ́ bi atẹ̀dó, láti gba ẹkùn náà.


But after the Civil War, nativist voices rose in volume and in power.


Ṣùgbọ́n lẹ́yìn ogun abẹ́lé, ohùn àwọn alátìlẹyìn ọmọ-ìlú gókè ní yíyí àti ní agbára


The Asian, Latin American, Caribbean and European immigrants who dug Americans' canals, cooked their dinners, fought their wars and put their children to bed at night were met with a new and intense xenophobia, which cast immigrants as permanent outsiders who should never be allowed to become insiders.


Àwọn ilẹ̀ Asia, Latin America, Caribbean àti àwọn aṣíkiri ilẹ̀-Europe tí wọ́n gbé kòtò-ìdaminù àwọn ọmọ-ilẹ̀ America, tí wọ́n ń dáná alẹ́ wọn, tí wọ́n ń jagun wọn tí wọ́n sì ń rẹ àwọn ọmọ wọn tẹ́ lálẹ́ ni wọ́n ṣe alábàápàde ìbẹ̀ru aráàta tuntun tó le, tó pín àwọn aṣíkiri gẹ́gẹ́ bi aráàta pátápátá tí wọn ò gbọdọ̀ gbà láyè láti di aráalé.


By the mid-1920s, the nativists had won, erecting racist laws that closed out untold numbers of vulnerable immigrants and refugees.


Nígbà tí yó fi di àrín àsìko 1920, àwọn alátìlẹyìn ọmọ-ìlú ti borí, gbígbé òfin ẹlẹ́yàmẹ̀yà dìde ṣe agbétìsíta iye àwọn aṣíkiri tó kọ́gun-séwu àti àwọn ogúnléndé tí wọn ò sọ síta.


Immigrants and their allies did their best to fight back, but they found themselves on the defensive, caught in some ways in the nativists' frames.


Àwọn aṣíkiri àti àwọn alátìlẹyìn wọn sapá wọn láti jà padà, ṣùgbọ́n wọ́n bára wọn lẹ́ni tó ń ṣe àtìlẹyìn, wọ́n káwọn ní àwọn ọ̀nà kọ̀ọ̀kan nínú ìṣe àtìlẹ́yìn fún àwọn alátìlẹyin ọmọ-ìlú.


When nativists said that immigrants weren't useful, their allies said yes, they are.


Nígbà tí àwọn alátìlẹyin ọmọ-ìlú sọ wí pé àwọn aṣíkiri ò wúlò, àwọn alátìlẹyìn wọn ní bẹ́ẹ̀ ni, wọ́n wúlò.


When nativists accused immigrants of being others, their allies promised that they would assimilate.


Nígbà tí àwọn alátìlẹyìn ọmọ-ìlú fi ẹ̀sùn kan àwọn aṣíkiri wí pé àwọn tókù niwọ́n, àwọn alátìlẹyìn wọn ṣe àdéhùn pé wọ́n máa fara jọwọ́n.


When nativists charged that immigrants were dangerous parasites, their allies emphasized their loyalty, their obedience, their hard work and their thrift.


Nígbà tí àwọn alátìlẹyin ọmọ-ìlú fẹ̀sùn kàn wọn pé àwọn aṣíkiri jẹ́ ajọ̀fẹ́ tó léwu, àwọn alátìlẹyìn wọn ṣe ìfirinlẹ̀ ìjólóòótọ́ wọn, ìgbọ́ràn wọn, ìṣiṣẹ́ kára wọn àti àìnáwó-nínàkúnà wọn.


Even as advocates welcomed immigrants, many still regarded immigrants as outsiders to be pitied, to be rescued, to be uplifted and to be tolerated, but never fully brought inside as equals in rights and respect.


Kódà bí àwọn agbẹnusọ ṣe ń gba àwọn aṣíkiri mọ́ra, ọ̀pọ́ ṣì ń ka àwọn aṣíkiri sí aráàta tó yẹ kí wọ́n káànú, tó yẹ kí wọ́n dóòlà, tó yẹ kí wọ́n gbéga kí wọ́n sì gbà mọ́ra, ṣùgbọ́n tí wọn ò ní mú wọlé gẹ́gẹ́ bi adọ́gba ní ẹ̀tọ́ àti ọ̀wọ̀.


After World War II, and especially from the mid-1960s until really recently, immigrants and their allies turned the tide, overthrowing mid-20th century restriction and winning instead a new system that prioritized family reunification, the admission of refugees and the admission of those with special skills.


Lẹ́yìn ogun àgbáyé kejì, pàápàá jùlọ láti àrín àsìko 1960 yàtọ̀sí àìpẹ́ yìí, àwọn aṣíkiri àti àwọn alátìlẹyìn wọn ń fa ìṣẹ̀lẹ̀ padà sẹ́yìn, tí wọ́n fẹ́ ti ìdíwọ́ ọ̀rún ọdún àrín-ogún ṣubú àti ìborí dípo ètò tuntun tí yóò gbájúmọ́ ìkójọpọ̀ àwọn ẹbi, gbígba àwọn ogúnléndé àti gbígba àwọn tí wọ́n ní ìmọ̀ọ́ṣe tó yátọ̀.


But even then, they didn't succeed in fundamentally changing the terms of the debate, and so that framework endured, ready to be taken up again in our own convulsive moment.


Ṣùgbọ́n nígbà náà, wọn ò ṣàṣeyọrí nínú ṣíṣe àyípadà ìpìlẹ̀ àwọn àdéhùn àríyànjiyàn náà, nítorí náà ẹ̀tò-ìgbésẹ̀ iṣẹ́ náà dúró, tó ṣetán láti di lílò padà ní àsìko ìparí titi wa.


That conversation is broken.


Àsọgbà yẹn ti fọ́.


The old questions are harmful and divisive.


Àwọn ìbéèrè àtijọ́ náà léwu àti ìpínyà.


So how do we get from that conversation to one that's more likely to get us closer to a world that is fairer, that is more just, that's more secure?


Báwo la ṣe fẹ́ kúrò láti àsọgbà yẹn sí èyí tó lè múwa súmọ́ ilẹ̀-àgbáyé kan tó jẹ́ oní déédé, tó jẹ́ adọ́gba, tí ò léwu púpọ̀?


I want to suggest that what we have to do is one of the hardest things that any society can do: to redraw the boundaries of who counts, of whose life, whose rights and whose thriving matters.


Mo fẹ́ dábàá wí pé nǹkan tí a ní láti ṣe jẹ́ ọ̀kan nínú àwọn nǹkan tó le tí àwùjọ kankan lè ṣe: láti ṣe àtúnyà àwọn enu-àlà ẹni tó ṣe pàtàkì, tí ìgbésí ayé rẹ̀, tí ẹ̀tọ rẹ̀ àti ìdàgbàsókè ṣe pàtàkì.


We need to redraw the boundaries.


A nílò láti ṣe àtúnyà àwọn enu-àlà náà


We need to redraw the borders of us.


A nílò láti ṣe àtúnyà àwọn ibodè wa.


In order to do that, we need to first take on a worldview that's widely held but also seriously flawed.


Láti lè ṣe ìyẹn, a nílò láti kọ́kọ́ gbájúmọ́ ojú-ìwòye tí àwọn ènìyàn ní ṣùgbọ́n tí wọ́n ti ní akùdé gidi gan-an.


According to that worldview, there's the inside of the national boundaries, inside the nation, which is where we live, work and mind our own business.


Gẹ́gẹ́ bi ojú-ìwòye yẹn, inú àwọn enu-àlà àpapọ̀ wa, nínú orílẹ̀-èdè náà, tó jẹ́ ibi tí à ń gbé, tí a tí ń ṣiṣẹ́ tí a sì ń mọ̀wọn arawa.


And then there's the outside; there's everywhere else.


Ìta rẹ̀ náà wà; ibi gbogbo náà wà.


According to this worldview, when immigrants cross into the nation, they're moving from the outside to the inside, but they remain outsiders.


Gẹ́gẹ́ bi ojú-ìwòye yìí, nígbà tí àwọn aṣíkiri bá ta kọ́sọ́ sí orílẹ̀-èdè náà, wọ́n ń gbéra láti ìta sínú ilé, sùgbọ́n wọn ó ṣì jẹ́ aráàta.


Any power or resources they receive are gifts from us rather than rights.


Èyíkéyìí agbára tàbí ohun-èlò tí wọ́n bá gbà gẹ́gẹ́ bí ẹ̀bùn látọ̀dọ wa yàtọ̀sí àwọn ẹ̀tọ wọn


Now, it's not hard to see why this is such a commonly held worldview.


Ní báyìí, kò ṣòro láti rí èrèdí tí èyí fi jẹ́ irú ojú-ìwòye tí àwọn ènìyàn ní tọ wọ́pọ̀.


It's reinforced in everyday ways that we talk and act and behave, down to the bordered maps that we hang up in our schoolrooms.


Wọ́n ṣe ìwúrí fún-un ní àwọn ọ̀nà ojoojúmọ́ bí a ṣe ń sọrọ̀ àti bí a ṣe ń ṣe àti bí a ṣe ń húwà, débi àwòrán ẹnubodè tí a fi kọ́ sókè nínú àwọn yàra-ilé-ẹ̀kọ wa.


The problem with this worldview is that it just doesn't correspond to the way the world actually works, and the way it has worked in the past.


Ìṣòro tó wà pẹ̀lú ojú-ìwòye yìí ni wí pé kò papọ̀ mọ́ ònà tí ilẹ̀ àgbáyé ń gbà ṣiṣẹ́, àti ọ̀nà tí ó ti gbà ṣiṣẹ́ sẹ́yìn.


Of course, American workers have built up wealth in society.


Bẹ́ẹ̀ ni, àwọn òṣìṣẹ ilẹ̀ America ti pèsè ọrọ̀ ní àwùjọ.


But so have immigrants, particularly in parts of the American economy that are indispensable and where few Americans work, like agriculture.


Bẹ́ẹ̀ náà ni àwọn aṣíkiri, pàtàkì jùlọ ní apá kan ọrọ̀-ajé ilẹ̀ America tí ò ṣe é fẹ́kù àti ibi tí díẹ̀ nínú àwọn ọmọ ilẹ̀ America ti ń ṣiṣẹ́, bíi iṣẹ́ àgbẹ̀.


Since the nation's founding, Americans have been inside the American workforce.


Látígbà tí wọ́n ti dá orílẹ̀-èdè náà sílẹ̀, ni àwọn ọmọ ilẹ̀ America ti wà nínú ẹgbẹ́-òṣìṣẹ́ ilẹ̀ America.


Of course, Americans have built up institutions in society that guarantee rights.


Bẹ́ẹ̀ ni, àwọn ọmọ ilẹ̀ America ti kọ́ àwọn ilé-isẹ́ sínú àwùjọ tó ń ṣe ìdánilójú ẹ̀tọ́.


But so have immigrants.


Bẹ́ẹ̀ náà ni àwọn aṣíkiri.


They've been there during every major social movement, like civil rights and organized labor, that have fought to expand rights in society for everyone.


Wọ́n ti wà níbẹ̀ lásíkò kókó ìtẹ̀síwájú àwùjọ, bíi ẹ̀tọ́ ará-ìlú àti ẹgbẹ́ àwọn òṣìṣẹ́, tí a ti jà láti fẹ ẹ̀tọ́ lójú nínú àwùjọ fún gbogbo ènìyan.


So immigrants are already inside the struggle for rights, democracy and freedom.


Nítorí náà àwọn aṣíkiri ti wà nínú ìjà fún ẹ̀to, ìjọba àwarawa àti òmìnira


And finally, Americans and other citizens of the Global North haven't minded their own business, and they haven't stayed within their own borders.


Lákòtán, àwọn ọmọ ilẹ̀ America àti àwọn àwọn ọmọ-ìlú tókù ní Global North ò mọ̀wọn ara wọn, wọn ò sì tíì dúró sáàrín ibódè tiwọn.


They haven't respected other nations' borders.


Wọn ò tíì ní ìbọ́wọ̀ fún enubodè àwọn orílẹ̀-èdè tókù.


They've gone out into the world with their armies, they've taken over territories and resources, and they've extracted enormous profits from many of the countries that immigrants are from.


Wọ́n ti jáde lọ sínú ayé pẹ̀lú àwọn ọmọ-ogun wọn, wọ́n ti gba ìṣàkóso àwọn ilẹ̀ àti ohun àlùmọ́nì, wọ́n sì ti yọ èrè tó pọ̀ lára orílẹ̀-èdè púpọ̀ tí àwọn aṣíkiri ti wá.


In this sense, many immigrants are actually already inside American power.


Ni ti èyí, ọ̀pọ̀lọpọ̀ àwọn aṣíkiri kulẹ̀ ti wà nínú agbára ilẹ̀ America tẹ́lẹ̀.


With this different map of inside and outside in mind, the question isn't whether receiving countries are going to let immigrants in.


Pẹ̀lú àwòrán inú àti ìta orílẹ̀-èdè lẹ́mi wọn, ìbéèrè náà kìí ṣe wí pé bóyá gbígba àwọn orílẹ̀-èdè wọ̀nyí yóò jẹ́ kí àwọn aṣíkiri ó wọlé.


They're already in.


Wọ́n kulẹ̀ ti wọlé.


The question is whether the United States and other countries are going to give immigrants access to the rights and resources that their work, their activism and their home countries have already played a fundamental role in creating.


Ìbéèrè náà ni pé bóyá orílẹ̀-ède United States àti àwọn orílẹ̀-èdè tókù máa fún àwọn aṣíkiri ní àn àǹfààní fàní sí àwọn ẹ̀tọ́ àti ohun àlùmọ́nì tí iṣẹ́ wọn, ìjàfẹ́tọ̀ọ́ wọn àti àwọn orílẹ̀-ède wọn ti kó ipa pàtàkì nínú ìṣẹ̀da rẹ̀.


With this new map in mind, we can turn to a set of tough, new, urgently needed questions, radically different from the ones we've asked before -- questions that might change the borders of the immigration debate.


Pẹ̀lú àwòran orílẹ̀-èdè tuntun yìí lọ́kàn, a lè kọjú sí sẹ́ẹ́tì àwọn ìbéèrè líle, tuntun, tí a nílò kíákíá, tó yátọ̀ gédéngbé sí àwọn tí a ti bẹ̀rè tẹ́lẹ̀ -- àwọn ìbéèrè tó lè ṣe àyípadà àríyànjiyàn enubodè ìwọlé látókèrè.


Our three questions are about workers' rights, about responsibility and about equality.


Àwọn ìbéèrè mẹ́ta wa jẹ́ nípa ẹ̀tọ́ àwọn òṣìṣẹ́, nípa ojúṣe àti nípa ìdọ́gba.


First, we need to be asking about workers' rights.


Àkọ́kọ́, a nílò láti máa bèrè nípa ẹ̀tọ́ àwọn òṣìṣẹ́.


How do existing policies make it harder for immigrants to defend themselves and easier for them to be exploited, driving down wages, rights and protections for everyone?


Báwo ni àwọn ìpinnu tó wà nílẹ̀ ṣe ń jẹ́ kó le fún àwọn aṣíkiri láti gbèja arawọn kó sì rọrùn fún wọn láti lò wọn nílò-kulò, wíwa owó-iṣẹ́ wálẹ̀, ẹ̀tọ́ àti ìdáààbòbò fún gbogbo ènìyàn?


I have learned that if we focus on women's education, we improve their life positively as well as the well-being of their community.


Mo ti kẹ́kọ̀ọ́ pé tí a bá gbájúmọ́ ẹ̀kọ́ àwọn obìnrin, a máa mú ìyàtọ̀ bá ìgbeayé wọn gidi gan, bákan náà ni àlàáfíà àwùjọ wọn.


This is why now I dedicate my life to education.


Ìdí nìyí tí mo fi jọ̀wọ́ ayé mi fún ètò-ẹ̀kọ́.


And this is totally aligned with my sense of equity and my pursuit of social justice, because if you want to increase access to health services, you need first to increase access to health education.


Èyí wà ní ìṣọ̀kan pẹ̀lú ìrònú mi nípa ìdọ́gba àti lílé dédé àwùjọ, nítorí tí ẹ bá fẹ́ ṣe àfikún ànfàní sí ètò-ìlera, ẹ nílò láti kọ́kọ́ ṣe àfikún ànfàní sí ìmọ̀ ìlera.


So with friends and partners, we are building a beautiful university in the rural north of Rwanda.


Pẹ̀lú àwọn ọ̀rẹ́ ati àwọn alájọṣe, à ń kọ́ fásitì tó rẹwà ní ìgbèríko àríwá orílẹ̀-ède Rwanda.


We educate our students to provide quality, equitable, holistic care to everyone, leaving no one out, focusing on the vulnerable, especially women and children, who are historically the last to be served.


À ń kọ́ àwọn akẹ́kọ̀ọ́ wa láti pèse ojúlówó, adọ́gba, ìtọ́jú àpapọ̀ fún gbogbo ènìyàn, láìyọ ẹnìkẹ́ni sílẹ̀, gbígbájúmọ́ àwọn tó kọ́gun séwu, pàápàá jùlọ àwọn obìnrin àti àwọn ọmọdé, tó ṣe pé nínú ìtàn àwọn ni ẹni ìgbẹ̀yìn láti gba ìtọ́jú.


We transform them into leaders and give them managerial skills and advocacy skills for them to be smooth changemakers in the society where they will be, so that they can build health systems that allow them to care about the vulnerable where they are.


A ṣe àyípadà wọn sí aṣíwájú a sì fún wọn ní ìmọ̀ọ́ṣe ìṣàmójútó àti ìmọ̀ọ́ṣe ìjẹ́ agbẹnusọ kí wọ́n lè ṣe àyípadà tó dán mọ́rán ní àwùjọ tí wọ́n máa wà, kí wọ́n lè pèse ètò ìlera tí yóò gbà wọ́n láyè láti ṣètọ́jú àwọn tó kọ́gun séwu níbi tí wọ́n wà.


And it's really transformative.


Ó sì ti mú àyípadà wá.


Because currently, medical education, for example, is given in institutions based in cities, focused on quality health services and skills, clinical skills, to be given in institutions.


Torí lọ́wọ́lọ́wọ́ yìí, ètò-ẹ̀kọ́ ìmọ̀-ìṣègùn, fún àpẹẹrẹ, ni wọ́n ń kọ́ ní àwọn ilé-ẹ̀kọ́ tó wà nígboro, tó gbájúmọ́ ojúlówó ètò-ìlera àti ìmọ̀ọ́ṣe, ìmọ̀ọ́ṣe ajẹmọ́-ìtọ́jú, tí yóò di gbígbà ní àwọn ilé-ẹ̀kọ́.


We also focus on quality clinical skills but with biosocial approach to the condition of patient, for care to be given in communities where the people live, with hospitalization only when necessary.


A tún gbájúmọ́ ojúlówó ìmọ̀ọ́ṣe ajẹmọ́-ìtọ́jú sùgbọ́n pẹ̀lú ọ̀nà-ìmúṣe àjọṣepọ̀ ìwà àti àwùjọ sí ipò-ìlera àwọn aláìsàn, láti lè ṣe ìtọ́jú ní àwùjọ tí àwọn ènìyàn ń gbé, pẹ̀lú gbígbé lọ sí ilé ìwòsàn nígbà tó bá pọn dandan nìkan.


And also, after four to seven years of clinical education in cities, young graduates don't want to go back to rural area.


Bákan náà, lẹ́yìn odún mẹ́rin sí méje ètò-ẹ̀kọ́ ajẹmọ́-ìwòsàn nígboro, àwọn ọ̀dọ́ akẹ́kọ̀ọ́ jáde ò fẹ́ padà sí àwọn ìgbèríko.


So this is why we have built the University of Global Health Equity, an initiative of Partners in Health, called UGHE, in the rural north of Rwanda.


Ìdí nìyí tí a fi kọ́ Fásitì Ìdọ́gba Ètò-Ìlera Àgbáyé, ìgbésẹ̀ àwọn alájọṣepọ̀ nínú ètò-ìlera, tí wọ́n pè ní UGHE, ní ìgbèríko àríwá orílẹ̀-ède Rwanda.


Our students are meant to go and change the world.


Àwọn akẹ́kọ̀ọ́ wa wà láti mú àyípadà bá àgbáyé.


They will come from all over -- it's a global university -- and will get the medical education for free at one condition: they have to serve the vulnerable across the world during six to nine years.


Wọn yóò wá láti ibi gbogbo -- fásitì àgbáyé ni -- wọn yóò sì gba ètò-ẹ̀kọ́ ìmọ̀-ìṣègùn lọ́fẹ̀ẹ́ lábẹ́ àdéhùn kan: wọ́n ní láti ṣe ìtọ́jú àwọn tó kọ́gun séwu jákèjádò àgbáyé láàrín ọdún mẹ́fà sí mẹ́sàn-án.


They will keep the salary for themselves and their families but turn the education we give in quality clinical services, especially for the vulnerable.


Wọn yóò tọ́jú owo iṣẹ́ náà fún ara wọn àti àwọn ẹbí wọn ṣùgbọ́n wọn yóò yí ẹ̀kọ́ tí a fún wọn padà sí ojúlówó iṣẹ́ ajẹmọ́-ìwòsàn, pàápàá jùlọ fún àwọn akọ́gun-séwu.


And doing so, they sign an agreement at the start that they will do that, a binding agreement.


Ṣíṣe eyí, wọn yóò tọwọ́ bọ ìwé àdéhùn ní ìbẹ̀ẹ̀rẹ̀ pẹ̀pẹ̀ pé wọn yóò ṣe ìyẹn, àdéhùn òfin ni.


We don't want money.


A ò fẹ́ owó.


We have to go and mobilize the money.


A ní láti lọ pín owó náà yíká.


But they will turn this in quality service delivery for all.


Ṣùgbọ́n wọn yóò sọ èyí di ìjábọ̀ iṣẹ́ fún gbogbo ènìyàn.


For this, of course, we need a strong gender equity agenda.


Fún èyí, bẹ́ẹ̀ ni, a nílò ètò ìdọ́gba láàrín ọkùnrin àti obìnrin tó lágbára.


And in all our classes, master's course, minimum of 50 percent of women.


Ní gbogbo yàrá ìkẹ́kọ̀ọ́ wa, abala ẹ̀kọ́ oyè ìjìnlẹ̀, ó kéré jù ìdá àdọ́ta àwọn obìnrin.


And I'm proud to say that for the medical school that started five months ago, we have enrolled 70 percent girls.


Inú mi dùn láti sọ pé fún ilé-ẹ̀kọ́ ìmọ̀-ìṣègùn tó bẹ́rẹ̀ ní oṣù márùn-ún sẹ́yìn, a ti gba ìdá àdọ́rin àwọn ọmọdébìnrin.


This is a statement against the current inequity for women to access medical education in our continent.


Èyí jẹ́ èsì tako àìdọ́gba lọ́wọ́lọ́wọ́ fún àwọn obìnrin láti ní ànfàní sí ètò-ẹ̀kọ́ ìmọ̀-ìṣègùn ní ẹkùn wa.


I believe in women's education.


Mo nígbàgbọ́ nínu ètò-ẹ̀kọ́ àwọn obìnrin.


This is why I applaud African ladies who go all over the world to increase their education, their skills and their knowledge.


Ìdí nìyí tí mo fi gbóríyìn fún àwọn obìnrin nílẹ̀ Adúláwọ̀ tí wọ́n ń lọ káàkiri àgbáyé láti ṣe àfikún sí ẹ̀kọ́ wọn, ìmọ̀ọ́ṣe wọn àti ìmọ wọn.


But I hope they will bring that back to Africa to build the continent and make the continent a strong continent, because I'm sure a stronger Africa will make the world stronger.


Ṣùgbọ́n mo lérò wí pé wọn yóò mú ìyẹn padà wá sílẹ̀ Adúláwọ̀ láti jẹ́ kí ẹkùn náà gbóórò kí wọn sì sọ ẹkùn náà di agbègbe alágbára, nítorí ó dámi lójú pé ilẹ̀ Adúláwọ̀ tó lágbára yóò sọ orílẹ̀-èdè àgbáyé di alágbára.


Twenty-three years ago, I went back to Rwanda, to a broken Rwanda, that now is still a poor country but shining with a bright future.


Ọdún mẹ́tà-lé-lógún sẹ́yìn, mo padà lọ sí orílẹ̀-ède Rwanda, sí orílẹ̀-ède Rwanda tó ti túká, tó ṣì jẹ́ orílẹ̀-èdè tó kúṣẹ̀ẹ́ ṣùgbọ́n tó ń tàn pẹ̀lú ọjọ́-iwájú rere.


And I am full of joy to have come back, even if some days were very difficult, and even if some days I was depressed, because I didn't find a solution and people were dying, or things were not moving enough.


Mo kún fún ayọ̀ láti padà wá, kódà tí àwọn ọjọ́ kan bá le koko, tó sì jẹ́ wí pé àwọn ọjọ́ kan mo ní ìrẹ̀wẹ̀sí, nítorí mi ò rí ọ̀nà àbáyọ àwọn ènìyán sì ń kú, tàbí ǹkan ò lọ dáadáa.


But I'm so proud to have contributed to improve my community.


Ṣùgbọ́n inú mi dùn láti lọ́wọ́ sí àyípadà àwùjọ mi.


And this makes me full of joy.


Èyí sì ń jẹ́ kí n kún fáyọ̀.


So, African women from the diaspora, if you hear me, never forget your homeland.


Nítorí náà, àwọn obìnrin ilẹ̀ Adúláwọ̀ láti ilẹ̀-òkèrè, tí ẹ bá ń gbọ́mi, má gbàgbe iléè rẹ.


And when you are ready, come back home.


Tí ẹ bá ti ṣetán, ẹ padà wálé.


I did so.


Mo ṣe bẹ́ẹ̀.


It has fulfilled my life.


Ó ti jẹ́ kí ayé mi ní àṣeyọrí.


So, come back home.


Nítorí náà, ẹ padà wálé.


How community-led conservation can save wildlife


Bí ìkópamọ́ tí àwùjọ léwájú rẹ̀ ṣe lè dóólà àwọn ẹranko igbó.


I'm a lion conservationist.


Mo jẹ́ olùkópamọ́ kìnìhún.


Sounds cool, doesn't it?


O dùn-ún gbọ́, àbí bẹ́ẹ̀ kọ́?


Some people may have no idea what that means.


Àwọn ènìyàn kan lè má nì òye ǹkan tí èyí túmọ̀ sí.


But I'm sure you've all heard about Cecil the lion.


Ṣùgbọ́n ó dámi lójú wí pé gbogbo yín lẹ ti gbọ́ nípa Cecil kìnìhún náà.


[Cecil the Lion (2002-2015) ]


[Cecil kìnìhún náà (2002-2015) ].


(Lion roaring)


(kìnìhún tó ń bú ramú-ramù).


He roars no more.


Kò bú ramú-ramù mọ́


On the second of July, 2015, his life was cut short when he was killed by a trophy hunter.


Ní ọjọ́ kejì oṣù Agẹmọ, ọdún 2015, wọ́n dá ẹ̀mi rẹ̀ légbodò nígbà tí ọdẹ apẹranko igbó kan pa á.


They say that you can become attached to the animals you study.


Wọ́n sọ wí pé ẹ lè fẹ́ràn ẹranko tí ẹ̀ ń kọ́ nípa rẹ̀.


That was the case for me with Cecil the lion, having known him and studied him for three years in Hwange National Park.


Bí ó ṣe rí fúnmi àti Cecil kìnìhún náà nìyẹn, lẹ́yìn tí mo ti mọ̀ ọ́ tí mo sì ti mọ̀wa rẹ̀ fún ọdún mẹ́ta ní ààyè-ìgbafẹ́ apapọ̀ Hwange.


I was heartbroken at his death.


Ikúu rẹ̀ bàmí lọ́kàn jẹ́.


But the good thing to come out of this tragedy is the attention that the story brought towards the plight of threatened wild animals.


Ṣùgbọ́n ǹkan rere kan tó jáde lati ibi àjálù burúkú yìí ni àkíyèsí tí ìtàn yìí múwá nípa ẹ̀hónú àwọn ẹranko igbó tí wọ́n wà nínú ewu.


After Cecil's death, I began to ask myself these questions: What if the community that lived next to Cecil the lion was involved in protecting him?


Lẹ́yìn ikú Cecil, mo bẹ̀rẹ̀ síní bi ara mi ní àwọn ìbéérè wọ̀nyí: ti ó bá jẹ wí pé àwùjọ tí wọ́n ń gbé lẹ́gbẹ kìnìhún náà lọ́wọ́ sí ààbo rẹ̀ ńkọ́?


What if I had met Cecil when I was 10 years old, instead of 29?


Tó bá ṣe wí pé mo ti mọ Cecil nígbà ti mo wà ní ọmọ ọdún mẹ́wà, yàtọ̀ sí ọmọ ọdún mọ́kàn-dín-lọ́gbọ̀n ńkọ́?


Could I or my classmates have changed his fate?


Ǹjẹ́ èmi tàbí àwọn akẹgbẹ́ẹ̀ mi ní yàrá ìkẹ́kọ̀ọ́ ìbá ti yí àyànmọ rẹ̀ padà bí?


Many people are working to stop lions from disappearing, but very few of these people are native to these countries or from the communities most affected.


Ọ̀pọ̀ àwọn ènìyàn ń ṣiṣẹ́ láti dẹ́kun kí kìnìhún ó má pòórá mọ́, ṣùgbọ́n díẹ̀ nínú àwọn ènìyàn wọ̀nyí ni wọ́n jẹ́ ọmọ onílù sí àwọn orílẹ̀-èdè wọ̀nyí tàbí láti àwùjọ tí ọ̀rọ́ kàn jù.


But the communities that live with the lions are the ones best positioned to help lions the most.


Ṣùgbọ́n àwọn àwùjọ tí wọ́n ń gbé pẹ̀lú àwọn kìnìhún náà ni wọ́n wà ní ipò tó dára jù láti ran àwọn kìnìhún náà lọ́wọ́.


Local people should be at the forefront of the solutions to the challenges facing their wildlife.


Àwọn ọmọ onílù ló yẹ kí wọ́n léwájúu wíwá ìyanjú sí àwọn ìpèníjà tó ń kojú àwọn ẹranko igbó.


Sometimes, change can only come when the people most affected and impacted take charge.


Nígbà míràn, àyípadà yóò wáyé nígbà tí àwọn ènìyàn tí ọ̀rọ́ kàn tó sì nípa lára wọn jùlọ bá gbà á.


Local communities play an important role in fighting poaching and illegal wildlife trade, which are major threats affecting lions and other wildlife.


Àwọn àwùjọ ìgbèríko ń kópa pàtàkì láti kojú pípa àti òwo ẹranko igbo lọ́nà àìbófinmu, tí wọ́n jẹ́ olórí ewu tó ń dàmú àwọn kìnìhún àti àwọn ẹranko igbó mìíràn.


Being a black African woman in the sciences, the people I meet are always curious to know if I've always wanted to be a conservationist, because they don't meet a lot of conservationists who look like me.


Pé mo jẹ́ obìnrin aláwọ̀-dúdú ọmọ ilẹ̀ Adúláwọ̀ nínú ìmọ̀-ìjìnlẹ̀, àwọn ènìyàn tí mo máa ń pàdá máa ń nífẹ̀ láti mọ̀ bóyá ó wùnmí láti jẹ́ olùkó pamọ́ ni, nítorí wọn kìí pàdé àwọn olùkópamọ́ tí wọ́n jọmi lọ̀pọ̀lọpò.


When I was growing up, I didn't even know that wildlife conservation was a career.


Nígbà tí mò ń dàgbà, mi ò tiẹ̀ mọ̀ wí pé iṣẹ́-ìṣe ni ìkópamọ́ àwọn ẹranko igbó.


The first time I saw a wild animal in my home country was when I was 25 years old, even though lions and African wild dogs lived just a few miles away from my home.


Ìgbà àkọ́kọ́ tí mo rí ẹranko igbó ní orílẹ̀-èdè mi nígbà tí mo wà lọ́mọ ọdún mẹ́ẹ̀dọ́gbọ̀n, bó tilẹ̀ jẹ́ wí pé kìnìhún àti àwọn ajá igbó ilẹ̀ Adúláwọ̀ ń gbé ní ibùsọ̀ díẹ̀ sí ilé mi.


This is quite common in Zimbabwe, as many people are not exposed to wildlife, even though it's part of our heritage.


Èyí wọ́pọ̀ ní orílẹ̀-ède Zimbabwe, nítorí ọ̀pọ̀lọpọ̀ àwọn ènìyàn ò lajú sí ẹranko igbó, bó tilẹ̀ jẹ́ wí pé ó wà lára àṣa wa.


When I was growing up, I didn't even know that lions lived in my backyard.


Nígbà tí mò ń dàgbà, mi ò tilẹ̀ mọ̀ wí pé kìnìhún ń gbé lẹ́yìn ilé mi.


When I stepped into Sav├® Valley Conservancy on a cold winter morning 10 years ago to study African wild dogs for my master's research project, I was mesmerized by the beauty and the tranquility that surrounded me.


Nígbà tí mo dásẹ̀ wọ Savé Valley Conservancy ní àárọ̀ ọlọ́gínìtì kan ní ọdún mẹ́wà sẹ́yìn láti kẹ́kọ̀ọ́ nípa àwọn ajá igbó ilẹ̀ Adúláwọ̀ fún iṣẹ́ ìwádì oyè ìjìnlẹ̀ mi, ẹwà àti ìdákẹ́rọ́rọ́ tó yími ká fàmí mọ́ra.


I felt like I had found my passion and my purpose in life.


Ó dàbi ẹni pé mo ti rí ohun tí mo nífẹ̀ sí àti àyànmọ́ mi nílé ayé.


I made a commitment that day that I was going to dedicate my life to protecting animals.


Mo ṣe ìpinnu lọ́jọ́ náà pé màá fi gbogbo ayé mi dáábò bo àwọn ẹranko.


I think of my childhood school days in Zimbabwe and the other kids I was in school with.


Mo ronú nípa àwọn ìgbà tí mo wà ní ilé-ẹ̀kọ́ èwe ní orílẹ̀-ède Zimbabwe àti àwọn ọmọ tókù tí a jọ wà ní ilé-ẹ̀kọ́.


Perhaps if we had a chance to interact with wildlife, more of my classmates would be working alongside me now.


Bóyá tí a bá ti ní ànfàní láti farakínra pẹ̀lú ẹranko igbó ni, ọ̀pọ̀ nínú àwọn akẹgbẹ́ mi ní yàrá ìkẹ́kọ̀ọ́ ni a ó jọ máa ṣiṣẹ́ báyìí.


Unless the local communities want to protect and coexist with wildlife, all conservation efforts might be in vain.


Àyàfi tí àwọn àwùjọ ìgbèríko bá fẹ́ dáábòbò tí wọ́n sì fẹ́ gbé pẹ̀lú ẹranko igbó, gbogbo ìgbìyànjú olùkópamọ́ lè já sásán.


These are the communities that live with the wild animals in the same ecosystem and bear the cost of doing so.


Àwọn wọ̀nyí ni àwùjọ tí wọ́n ń gbé pẹ̀lú àwọn ẹranko igbó náà ní àyíká kan náà tí wọ́n sì ń fara gbá ṣíṣe bẹ́ẹ̀.


If they don't have a direct connection or benefit from the animals, they have no reason to want to protect them.


Tí wọn ò bá ní àjọṣepọ̀ tààrà tàbí ànfàní látara àwọn ẹranko náà, wọn ò ní ìdí kankan láti dáábò bò wọ́n.


And if local communities don't protect their wildlife, no amount of outside intervention will work.


Tí àwọn àwùjọ ìgbèríko ò bá dáábò bo ẹranko igbó wọn, kò sí iye ìdásí láti ìta tí yóò ṣiṣẹ́.


So what needs to be done?


Nítorí náà kí la nílò láti ṣe?


Conservationists must prioritize environmental education and help expand the community's skills to conserve their wildlife.


Àwọn olùkópamọ́ gbọ́dọ̀ mú ètò-ẹ̀kọ́ agbègbè lọ́kùkúdùn kí wọ́n sì ṣe ìrànlọ́wọ́ láti gbòòro ìmọ̀ọ́ṣe àwùjọ láti ṣe ìpamọ́ àwọn ẹranko igbó wọn.


Schoolchildren and communities must be taken to national parks, so they get a chance to connect with the wildlife.


Àwọn ọmọ ilé-ẹ̀kọ́ àti àwùjọ gbọ́dọ̀ di mímú lọ sí àwọn àyè-ìgbafẹ́ àpapọ̀, kí wọ́n lè ní ànfàní láti ní ìbáṣepọ̀ pẹ̀lú ẹranko igbó.


At every effort and every level, conservation must include the economies of the people who share the land with the wild animals.


Fún gbogbo ìgbìyànjú àti gbogbo ìpele, ìkópamọ́ gbọ́dọ̀ pẹ̀lu ọrọ̀-ajé àwọn ènìyàn tí wọ́n jìjọ ń pín ilẹ̀ lò pẹ̀lú àwọn ẹranko igbó.


It is also critical that local conservationists be part of every conservation effort, if we are to build trust and really embed conservation into communities.


Ó tún ṣe pàtàkì pé kí àwọn olùkópamọ́ agbègbè wà lára gbogbo ìgbìyànjú ìkópamọ́, tí a bá fẹ́ kí wọ́n gbà wá gbọ́ tí a sì fẹ́ fi ìkópamọ́ rinlẹ̀ sí àwùjọ lóòtọ́.


As local conservationists, we face many hurdles, from outright discrimination to barriers because of cultural norms.


Gẹ́gẹ́ bi olùkópamọ́ agbègbè, a máa ń kojú ìṣòro tó pọ̀, láti ibi ẹlẹ́yàmẹ̀yà sí àwọn ìṣòro nítorí àṣà àti ìṣe.


But I will not give up my efforts to bring indigenous communities to this fight for the survival of our planet.


Ṣùgbọ́n mi ò ní jáwọ́ ìgbìyànjú mi láti mú àwọn ènìyàn àwùjọ wọlé láti ja ìjà yìí fún ìmóríbọ́ àgbáyé wa.


I'm asking you to come and stand together with me.


Mò ń pè yín láti wá darapọ̀ pẹ̀lú mi.


We must actively dismantle the hurdles we have created, which are leaving indigenous populations out of conservation efforts.


A gbọ́dọ̀ jọ tú àwọn ìṣòro tí a ti ṣèdá ká, tó ń yọwọ́ àwọn ọmọ-ìlú kúrò nínu ìgbìyànjú ìkópamọ̀.


I've dedicated my life to protecting lions.


Mo ti jọ̀wọ ayé mi fún ìdáábò bo kìnìhún.


And I know my neighbor would, too, if only they knew the animals that lived next door to them.


Mo dẹ̀ mọ̀ pé àwọn alájọgbé mi yóò ṣe bẹ́ẹ̀, bákan náà, ìbá ṣe wí pé wọ́n mọ àwọn ẹranko tí ó ń gbé ní ẹ̀gbẹ wọn ni.


How cancer cells communicate - and how we can slow them down


Bí àwọn hóró àìsan jẹjẹrẹ ṣe ń sọ̀rọ̀ - àti bí a ṣelè mú wọn wálẹ̀.


It's a devastating disease that takes an enormous emotional toll.


Ààrùn tó ń bani láye jẹ́ ni tó sì ń bani lọ́kàn jẹ́.


Not only on the patient, but the patient's loved ones, as well.


Kìí se fún aláìsàn nìkan, ṣùgbọ́n àwọn olólùfẹ aláìsàn náà, bákan náà.


It is a battle that the human race has been fighting for centuries.


Ogun tí ìran ọmọ ènìyàn ti ń jà fún àìmọye ọ̀rún-ọdún ni.


And while we've made some advancements, we still haven't beaten it.


Nígbà tí a ti ṣe àwọn ìtẹ̀síwájú kan, a ò tíì ṣẹ́gun rẹ̀.


Two out of five people in the US will develop cancer in their lifetime.


Méjì nínú ènìyàn márùn-ún ní orílẹ̀-ède US ni yóò ní àìsan jẹjẹrẹ ní ìṣẹ̀mi wọn.


Of those, 90 percent will succumb to the disease due to metastases.


Nínú àwọn wọ̀nyí, ìdá àdọ́rùn (90%) yóò juwọ́lẹ̀ fún ààrùn yìí nítorí ìtànka rẹ̀.


Metastasis is a spread of cancer from a primary site to a distal site, through the circulatory or the lymphatic system.


Ìtànká jẹ́ ìfọ́nká àìsan jẹjẹrẹ láti àyè ìpìlẹ̀ sí àyè míràn, nípasẹ̀ ètò ìṣàn-ẹ̀jẹ̀ tàbí ètò omi-ara.


For instance, a female patient with breast cancer doesn't succumb to the disease simply because she has a mass on her breast.


Fún àpẹẹrẹ, obìnrin aláìsàn pẹ̀lu àìsan jẹjẹrẹ ọyàn kìí juwọ́lẹ̀ fún ààrùn náà nítorí ó pọ̀ lórí ọyàn rẹ̀.


She succumbs to the disease because it spreads to the lungs, liver, lymph nodes, brain, bone, where it becomes unresectable or untreatable.


Ó juwọ́lẹ̀ fún ààrùn náà nítorí ó ń tàn lọ sí ẹ̀dọ̀-fóró, ẹ̀dọ̀, asẹ́ omi-ara, ọpọlọ, egungun, níbi tí kò ní ṣe é fi iṣẹ́ abẹ yọ tàbí ṣeé tọ́jú.


Metastasis is a complicated process.


Ìtànká jẹ́ ìgbésẹ̀ àmúdijú.


One that I've studied for several years now.


Èyí tí mo ti ń kọ́ nípa rẹ̀ fún àìmọye ọdún báyìí.


And something that my team and I discovered recently was that cancer cells are able to communicate with each other and coordinate their movement, based on how closely packed they are in the tumor microenvironment.


Ǹkan tí èmi àti ikò mi ṣàwárí láìpẹ́ yìí ni wí pé àwọn hóró àìsan jẹjẹrẹ máa ń bá ara wọn sọ̀rọ̀ wọ́n sì máa ń dari ètò ìgbésẹ̀ wọn, lóri bí wọ́n ṣe súnmọ́ra wọn nínu agbègbè-àìfojúrí kókó.


They communicate with each other through two signaling molecules called Interleukin-6 and Interleukin-8.


Wọ́n máa ń bára wọn sọ̀rọ̀ nípasẹ̀ mólékù afúnilọ́wọ́ méjì tí wọ́n ń pè ní Interleukin-6 àti Interleukin-8.


Now, like anything else in nature, when things get a little too tight, the signal is enhanced, causing the cancer cells to move away faster from the primary site and spread to a new site.


Ní báyìí, bí ǹkan mìíràn nínu ẹ̀dá, tí ǹkan bá fún díẹ̀, ó máa ń ran àmì náà lọ́wọ́, tí yóó sì mú kí àwọn hóró àìsan jẹjẹrẹ náà yára sún kúrò láti àyè-ìpìlẹ̀ kí wọ́n sì fọ́nká sí àyè tuntun.


So, if we block this signal, using a drug cocktail that we developed, we can stop the communication between cancer cells and slow down the spread of cancer.


Nítorí náà, tí a bá dí àmì yìí, pèlu lílo ògun kan tí a pèsè, a lè dá ìbánisọ̀rọ̀ láàrín àwọn hóró àìsan jẹjẹrẹ dúró ká sì mú àdínkù bá ìfọ́nká àìsan jẹjẹrẹ.


Let me pause here for a second and take you back to when this all began for me in 2010, when I was just a sophomore in college.


Ẹ jẹ́ kí n dánu dúró díẹ̀ fún ìṣẹ́jú àyá kan kí n sì mu yín padà sí ìgbà tí gbogbo èyí bẹ̀rẹ̀ fún mi ní ọdún 2010, nígbà tí mo jẹ́ akẹ́kọ̀ọ́ odún kejì ní ilé-ìwé gíga.


I had just started working in Dr Danny Wirtz's lab at Johns Hopkins University.


Mo ṣẹ̀ bẹ̀rẹ̀ síní ṣiṣẹ́ ní àyè fún àyẹ̀wo ìmọ̀-ìjìnlẹ̀ omímọ̀ ìṣègùn Danny Wirtz ní fásitì John Hopkins ni.


And I'll be honest: I was a young, naive, Sri Lankan girl, who had no previous research experience.


Màá dẹ̀ ṣe òótọ́: mo jẹ́ ọ̀dọ́, aláìmọ̀kan, ọmọdébìnrin Sri Lankan, tí ò ní ìrírí ìwádìí àtẹ̀yìnwá Kankan.


And I was tasked to look at how cancer cells move in a 3D collagen I matrix that recapsulated, in a dish, the conditions that cancer cells are exposed to in our bodies.


Iṣẹ́ tí wọ́n gbé fún mi ni láti wo bí àwọn hóró ààrun jẹjẹrẹ ṣe ń rìn ní 3D collagen I matrix tó máa ń ṣàfihàn, nínu abọ́ kan, ipò tí àwọn hóró ààrun jẹjẹrẹ ń kojú lára wa.


This was new and exciting for me, because previous work had been done on 2D, flat, plastic dishes that really weren't representative of what the cancer cells are exposed to in our bodies.


Èyí jẹ́ tuntun ó sì ń fún mi láyò, nítorí àwọn iṣẹ́ àtẹ̀yìnwá ni wọ́n ti ṣe lóri 2D, pẹlẹbẹ, abọ́ oníke tí wọn kìí fi bẹ́ẹ̀ ṣe àgbéjáde ǹkan tí àwọn hóró ààrun jẹjẹrẹ ń kojú lára wa.


Because, let's face it, the cancer cells in our bodies aren't stuck onto plastic dishes.


Nítorí, ẹ jẹ́ ká dojú kọ ọ́, àwọn hóró ààrun jẹjẹrẹ nínú ara wa kìí dúró lórí àwọn abọ́ oníke.


It was during this time that I attended a seminar conducted by Dr Bonnie Bassler from Princeton University, where she talked about how bacteria cells communicate with each other, based on their population density, and perform a specific action.


Ní àsìkò yìí ni mo lọ sí sẹminá tí Oníṣégùn-òyìnbó Bonnie Bassler láti fásitì Princeton gbé kalẹ̀, níbi tó ti sọ̀rọ̀ nípa bí àwọn hóró alámọ̀ ṣe ń bára wọn sọ̀rọ̀, lóri iye àgbáríjọpọ̀ wọn, tí wọ́n sì ń ṣe àwọn iṣẹ́ kan pàtó.


"It was at this moment that a light bulb went off in my head, and I thought, ""Wow, I see this in my cancer cells every day, when it comes to their movement."


"Àsìkò yìí ni iná kan dédé kú lórí mi, mo wá rò ó, ""Wow, mo máa ń rí èyí nínu hóró ààrun jẹjẹrẹ mi lójoojúmọ́, tí a bá ń sọ nípa ìgbésẹ̀ wọn."


The idea for my project was thus born.


Èro iṣẹ́-àkànṣe mi bá di bíbí.


I hypothesized that cancer cells are able to communicate with each other and coordinate their movement, based on how closely packed they are in the tumor microenvironment.


Mo ṣe àròsọ pé àwọn hóró ààrun jẹjẹrẹ máa ń bára wọn sọ̀rọ̀ wọ́n sì máa ń darí ìgbésẹ̀ wọn, lóri bí wọ́n ṣe jọ wà papọ̀ ní àwùjọ-àìfojúrí kókó.


I became obsessed with pursuing this hypothesis.


Mo bẹ̀rẹ̀ síní ronú pẹ̀lu ìṣiṣẹ́ tọ àròsọ yìí.


And fortunately, I work for someone who is open to running with my crazy ideas.


Orí bámi ṣé, mò ń ṣisẹ́ fún ẹnìkan tó ṣetán láti ṣiṣẹ́ pẹ̀lú èrò tó ń sín mi níwín.


So, I threw myself into this project.


Nítorí náà, mo jura mi sínu iṣẹ́-àkànṣe yìí.


However, I couldn't do it by myself.


Síbẹ̀, mi ò lè dáṣe é fúnra mi.


I needed help.


Mo nílò ìrànlọ́wọ́.


I definitely needed help.


Mo nílò ìrànlọ́wọ́ lóòtọ́.


So we recruited undergraduate students, graduate students, postdoctoral fellows and professors from different institutions and multiple disciplines to come together and work on this idea that I conceived as a sophomore in college.


A gba àwọn akẹ́kọ̀ọ́ tí wọn ò tíì kẹ́kọ̀ọ́ jáde, àwọn akẹ́kọ̀ọ́-jáde, àwọn ọ̀mọ̀wé àti àwọn ọ̀jọ̀gbọ́n láti ilé-ẹ̀kọ́ lóríṣiríṣi àti oríṣiríṣi ẹ̀ka láti parapọ̀ ṣiṣẹ́ lórí èrò yìí tí mo lóyún rẹ̀ gẹ́gẹ́ bi akẹ́kẹ̀ọ́ odún kejì nílé-ẹ̀kọ́ gíga.


After years of conducting experiments together and merging different ideas and perspectives, we discovered a new signaling pathway that controls how cancer cells communicate with each other and move, based on their cell density.


Lẹ́yìn àìmọye odún tí a tí ń ṣe ìdánwò papọ̀ tí a sì ń pa oríṣiríṣi èrò àti òye pọ̀, a ṣàwárí orípa ìṣàmì tuntun tó ń daríi bí àwọn hó


Some of you might have heard this, because most of social media knows it as the Hasini effect.


Àwọn kan nínu yín lè ti gbọ́ èyí, nítorí ọ̀pọ̀ àwọn ìkànì ìbánidọ́rẹ̀ mọ̀ ọ́ sí ipa Hasini.


And we weren't done yet.


A ò dẹ̀ tíì ṣetán.


We then decided that we wanted to block this signaling pathway and see if we could slow down the spread of cancer.


A wá pinnu wí pé a fẹ́ dí orípa ìsàmì ká wá wò ó bóyá a lè mú àdínkù bá ìfọ́nká ààrun jẹjẹrẹ.


Which we did, in preclinical animal models.


Tí a dẹ̀ ṣe, ní àwòṣe ìtọ́jú ṣíwáju àyẹ̀wò lára ẹranko.


We came up with a drug cocktail consisting of tocilizumab, which is currently used to treat rheumatoid arthritis, and reparixin, which is currently in clinical trials against breast cancer.


A pèsè òògùn aládálù kan tó ní tocilizumab, tí a ń lò lọ́wọ́lọ́wọ́ láti tọ́jú làkúrégbè, àti reparixin, tí à ń lò lọ́wọ́lọ́wọ́ fún ìwádìí ajẹmọ́-ìtọ́jú ààrun jẹjẹrẹ ọyàn.


And interestingly, what we found was that this cocktail of drugs really had no effect on tumor growth, but directly targeted metastases.


Pẹ̀lú ìdùnú, nkan tí a rí ni wí pé òògun aládálù yìí kò fi bẹ́ẹ̀ nípa lára ìdàgbàsókè kókó, ṣùgbọ́n ó dojúkọ ìtànká tààrà.


This was a significant finding, because currently, there aren't any FDA-approved therapeutics that directly target the spread of cancer.


Èyí jẹ́ àbájáde tó ṣe pàtàkì, torí lọ́wọ́lọ́wọ́ yìí, kò sí òògun FDA kankan tó gbàṣẹ tó ń kojú ìtànká ààrun jẹjẹrẹ tààrà.


In fact, the spread of cancer, metastasis, is thought of as a byproduct of tumor growth.


Lóòtọ́, ìtànká ààrun jẹjẹrẹ, títànká, ní wọ́n ń ri gẹ́gẹ́ bi èròjà ìdàgbàsókè kókó.


Where the idea is, if we can stop the tumor from growing, we can stop the tumor from spreading.


Níbi tí èrò náà wà, tí a bá lè dènà ìdàgbàsókè kókó, a lè dèna ìtànká kókó.


However, most of us know that this is not true.


Síbẹ̀, ọ̀pọ̀lọpọ wa mọ̀ wí pé èyí kìí ṣe òótọ́.


We, on the other hand, came up with the drug cocktail that targets metastasis not by targeting tumor growth, but by targeting the complex mechanisms that govern it, through the targeting of the Hasini effect.


Àwa, nídà kejì, pèse ògùn olómi kan tó ń kojú ìtànká tí kìí ṣe pẹ̀lú ìdojúkọ ìdàgbàsókè kókó, ṣùgbọ́n pẹ̀lú ìdojúkọ ìṣẹ̀dá tó gbóórò tó ń darí rẹ̀, nípasẹ̀ kíkojú ipa Hasini.


"This work was recently published in ""Nature Communications,"" and my team and I received an overwhelming response from around the world."


"Wọ́n ṣe àtẹ̀jáde iṣẹ́ yìí láìpẹ́ yìí nínu ""Nature Communications,"" èmi àti àwọn ikò mi dẹ̀ gba èsì tó pọ̀ káàkiri àgbáyé."


Nobody on my team could have predicted this sort of response.


Kò sí ẹnìkẹ́ni nínu ikọ̀ mi tó lè sọ àsọtẹ́lẹ̀ irú àwọn èsì yìí.


We seem to have struck a nerve.


Ó jọ bí ẹni pé a ti kan ǹkan.


Looking back, I am extremely grateful for the positive response that I received, not only from academia, but also patients, and people around the world affected by this terrible disease.


Wíwo ẹ̀yìn, mo ń dúpé gidi gan fún àwọn èsì gidi tí mo rí gbà, kìí ṣe láti ẹ̀ka ètò-ẹ̀kọ́ nìkan, ṣùgbọ́n láti ọ̀dọ̀ àwọn aláìsàn, àti àwọn ènìyàn káàkiri àgbáyé tí ààrùn burúkú yìí ń bájà.


As I reflect on this success I've encountered with the Hasini effect, I keep coming back to the people that I was fortunate enough to work with.


Bí mo ṣe ń nípa lóri àṣeyọrí tí mo bá pàdé pẹ̀lu ipa Hasini, mo tún padà wá bá àwọn ènìyàn tí mo ní ànfàní láti ṣiṣẹ́ pẹ̀lú.


The undergraduate students who demonstrated superhuman powers through their hard work and dedication.


Àwọn akẹ́kọ̀ọ́ tí wọn ò tíì kẹ́kọ̀ọ́ jáde tí wọ́n fi agbára àkàndá ènìyàn hàn nípasẹ̀ iṣẹ́ takun-takun àti ìfọkànsin wọn.


The graduate students and the postdoctoral fellows, my fellow Avengers, who taught me new techniques and always made sure I stayed on track.


Àwọn akẹ́kọ̀ọ́-jáde àti àwọn ọ̀mọ̀wé, àwọn akẹgbẹ́ mi olùkọ̀yà, tí wọ́n kọ́ mi ní àwọn ọgbọ́n tuntun tí wọ́n sì ríi dájú pé mo wà lójú ọ̀nà.


The professors, my Yodas and my Obi-Wan Kenobis, who brought their expertise into making this work into what it is today.


Àwọn ọ̀jọ̀gọ́n, àwọn Yoda àti Obi-Wan Kenobid mi, tí wọ́n mú ìmọ òjìni wọn wá láti jẹ́ kí iṣẹ́ yìí di ǹkan tó dà lónì.


The support staff, the friends and family, people who lifted our spirits, and never let us give up on our ambitious endeavors.


Àwọn òṣìṣẹ́ alátìlẹyìn, àwọn ọ̀rẹ́ àti ẹbí, àwọn ẹnìyàn tí wọ́n gbé orí mi sókè, tí wọn ò jẹ́ ká jákàn lóri ìgbìyànjú ìpinnu wa.


The best kind of sidekicks we could have asked for.


Àwọn kẹ́sẹ́ tó dára jù tí a lè bèrè fún.


It took a village to help me study metastasis.


Ó gba abúlé kan láti bá mi ṣàyẹ̀wo ìtànká.


And believe me, without my village, I wouldn't be here.


Ẹ gbàmígbọ́, láìsí abúlé mi, mi ò ní sí níbí.


Today, our team has grown, and we are using the Hasini effect to develop combination therapies that will effectively target tumor growth and metastases.


Lónì, ikọ̀ wa ti dàgbà, a sì ń lo ipa Hasini láti pèse àkójọpọ̀ òògùn tó máa kojú ìdàgbàsókè kókó àti ìtànká.


We are engineering new anticancer therapeutics, to limit toxicity and to reduce drug resistance.


À ń ṣe èto òògun atako-jẹjẹrẹ, láti ṣe àdínkù oró àti láti mú àdínkù bá ìtako òògùn.


And we are developing groundbreaking systems that will help for the development of better human clinical trials.


A ń sè àwọn ètò tí yóò nípa tí yóò sì ṣe ìrànwọ́ fún ìdàgbàsóke ìwádìí ajẹmọ́-ìtọ́jú lára ènìyàn dáadáa.


It blows my mind to think that all this, the incredible work that I'm pursuing -- and the fact that I'm standing here, talking to you today -- all came from this tiny idea that I had when I was sitting at the back of a seminar when I was just 20 years old.


Ó múnú mi dùn láti ronú wí pé gbogbo èyí, iṣẹ́ aláìlẹ́gbẹ́ tí mò ń ṣiṣẹ tọ̀ - àti ìjẹ́ òótọ́ pé mo dúró níbí, báa yín sọ́rọ̀ lónì -- gbogbo rẹ̀ wá látara èrò kékeré tí mo ní nígbà tí mo jókò lẹ́yìn ní sẹminá nígbà tí mo wà lọ́mọ ogún ọdún.


I recognize that right now, I am on this incredible journey that allows me to pursue work that I am extremely passionate about, and something that feeds my curiosity on a daily basis.


Mo mọ ìyẹn nísinyìí, mo wà lóri ìrìn-àjò aláìlẹ́gbẹ́ yìí tó fún mi ní ànfàní láti ṣiṣẹ́ tọ iṣẹ́ tí mo nífẹ̀ sí, àti ǹkan tó máa ń bọ́ ìmọ̀ mi lójoojúmọ́.


But I have to say, my favorite part of all of this -- other than, of course, being here, talking to you, today -- is the fact that I get to work with a diverse group of people, who make my work stronger, better and just so much more fun.


Ṣùgbọ́n mo gbọ́dọ̀ sọ pé, èyí tí mo fẹ́ràn jù nínu gbogbo èyìí -- yàtọ̀ sí, bẹ́ẹ̀ ni, wíwà níbí, bí báa yín sọ́rọ̀, lónì -- ni pé mo ṣiṣẹ́ pẹ̀lú oríṣiríṣi ẹ̀yà ènìyàn, tí wọ́n jẹ́ kí iṣẹ́ mi lágbára, kó dára kó sì rọrùn púpọ̀.


And because of this, I have to say that collaboration is my favorite superhuman power.


Torí èléyìí, mo ní láti sọ wí pé àjọṣepọ̀ ni agbára àkàndá-ènìyàn tí mo fẹ́ràn jù.


And what I love about this power is that it's not unique to me.


Nkan tí mo sì fẹ́ràn nípa agbára yìí ni wí pé èmi nìkan kọ́ ni mo ní i.


It's within all of us.


Ó wà nínu gbogbo wa.


My work shows that even cancer cells use collaboration to invade our bodies and spread their wrath.


Iṣẹ́ mi fi hàn pé kódà àwọn hóró ààrun jẹjẹrẹ má ń lo àjọṣepọ̀ láti kógun ja àgọ-ara wa àti láti fọ́n ìbínú wọn ká.


For us humans, it is a superpower that has produced incredible discoveries in the medical and scientific field.


Fún àwa ènìyàn, agbára-àkàndá náà ti pèse àwọn àwárí aláìlẹ́gbẹ́ ní ẹ̀ka ìmọ̀-ìṣègùn àti ìmọ̀-ìjìnlẹ̀.


And it is the superpower that we can all turn to to inspire us to create something bigger than ourselves, that will help make the world a better place.


Agbára-àkàndá náà ni gbogbo wá lè kọjú sí láti ṣe kóríyá fún wa láti ṣe ǹkan tó tóbi ju àwa fúnra wa lọ, ìyẹn yóò sì ràn wá lọ́wọ́ láti sọ ilé-ayé di àyè tó dára.


Collaboration is the superpower that I turn to, to help me fight cancer.


Àjọṣepọ̀ ni agbára-àkàndá tí mo kọjú sí, láti bá mi jagún ààrun jẹjẹrẹ.


And I am confident that with the right collaborations, we will beat this terrible disease.


Mo dẹ̀ ní ìdánilójú pé pẹ̀lú àjọṣepọ̀ tó tọ́, a máa ṣègun ààrùn burúkú yìí.


You may be accidentally investing in cigarette companies


Ẹ lè máa dókówò sí àwọn ilé-iṣẹ́ sìgá láìmọ̀.


In 2001, I was a brand new, shiny doctor, planning to save the world.


Ní ọdún 2001, mo jẹ́ oníṣégùn-òyìnbó tuntun àyọ́rán, tó ń dán, tó ń gbérò láti gba ayé là.


My first job was working for three months on a lung cancer unit.


Iṣẹ́ mi àkọ́kọ́ ni ṣíṣé iṣẹ́ fún oṣù mẹ́ta ní ẹ̀ka ààrun jẹjẹrẹ ẹ̀dọ̀fóró.


Nearly all of my patients were smokers or ex-smokers, and most of them had started smoking when they were children or in their early teens.


Ó fẹ́rẹ̀ jẹ́ wí pé gbogbo aláìsàn mi ni wọ́n ń mu sìgá tàbí ti mu sìgá rí, ọ̀pọ wọn sì ti bẹ̀rẹ̀ sí mu sìgá nígbà tí wọ́n wà lọ́mọdé tàbí láti bíi ọmọdún mẹ́tàlá.


And despite living in a beautiful, wealthy country, with access to the most sophisticated medicines, nearly every single one of my patients died.


Pẹ̀lu pé wọ́n ń gbé ní orílẹ̀-ède tó rẹwà, tó rọrọ̀, pẹ̀lú ànfàní sí àwọn òògùn tó lágbára jù, ó fẹ́rẹ̀ jẹ́ wí pé ìkànkan gbogbo àwọn aláìsàn mi ni wọ́n kú tán.


Everyone knows tobacco is bad, but when you see the impact firsthand, day-by-day, it leaves a very deep impression.


Gbogbo ènìyàn ló mọ̀ wí pé kùkúyè ò dára, ṣùgbọ́n tí ẹ bá rí ipa rẹ̀ tààrà, tọ́jọ́ ń gorí ọjọ́, ó máa ń fi ipa tó kẹnú sílẹ̀.


Ten years later, I'm a radiation oncologist, fully aware of the suffering caused by tobacco.


Lẹ́yìn ọdún mẹ́wà, onímọ̀ nípa ìtàn ikókó ni mí, tó mọ̀ nípa ìnira tí kùkúyè ń fà.


I'm sitting at the hospital cafeteria, having my first ever meeting with a representative from my superannuation fund.


Mo jókòó sí ilé-oúnjẹ ilé-ìwòsàn, mò ń ṣe ìpàdé mi àkọ́kọ́ pẹ̀lú aṣojú kan láti ilé-iṣẹ́ owó-ìfẹ̀yìntì mi.


It was thrilling, I'm sure you can imagine.


Ó múnú mi dùn, ó dámi lójú pé ẹ lè wòye rẹ̀.


He tells me I'm in the default option.


Ó sọ fún mi pé mo wà ní ẹ̀yàn ìpìlẹ̀.


"And I said, ""Option?"


"Mo ní, ""Ẹ̀yàn?"


Does that mean there are other options?


Ṣé ìyẹn túmọ̀ sí wí pé àwọn ànfàní yíyàn míràn tún wà?


"He looked at me, rolled his eyes, and said, ""Well, there is this one greenie option for people who have a problem with investing in mining, alcohol or tobacco."


"Ó wò mí, ó yí ojú rẹ̀, ó sì wí pé, ""yíyàn ìdáábò bo àwùjọ kan báyìí wà fún àwọn ènìyàn tí wọ́n ní ìṣòro ìdókówò nínú ìwa-kùsà, ọtí-líle tàbí kùkúyè."


"I said, ""Did you just say tobacco?"


"Mo ní, ""Ǹjẹ́ o dárúkọ kùkúyè?"


"He said, ""Yes."


Ó ní, bẹ́ẹ̀ ni.


"I said, ""So, are you telling me I'm currently investing in tobacco?"


"Mo ni, ""báyìí, ṣé ò ń sọ fúnmi wí pé mò ń dókówò nínu kùkúyè lọ́wọ́lọ́wọ́ yìí?"


"And he said, ""Oh, yes, everyone is."


"Ó ní, ""oh, bẹ́ẹ̀ ni, gbogbo ènìyàn sì ni."


When you invest in a company, you own part of that company.


Tí o bá dókówò ní ilé-iṣẹ́ kan, o ti ní díẹ̀ lára ilé-iṣẹ́ yẹn.


You want that company to grow and succeed and thrive.


O fẹ́ kí ilé-iṣẹ́ yẹn gbòòrò kó ṣe àṣeyọrí kó sì gbèrú.


You want that company to attract new customers, you want that company to sell more of its products.


O fẹ́ kí ilé-iṣẹ́ yẹn fa ojú àwọn oníbàárà tuntun mọ́ra, o fẹ́ kí ilé-iṣẹ́ yẹn ta ọ̀pọ̀ nínu àwọn èròjà rẹ̀.


And when it comes to tobacco, I couldn't think of anything that I wanted less.


Tí ó bá sì jẹ́ ti kùkúyè, mi ò lè ronú ǹkankan tí mo fẹ́ tó yátọ̀.


Now, I know you can only see one person standing here on this big red dot, on this enormous stage.


Ní báyìí, mo mọ̀ wí pé ẹnikan tó dúró lóri àmì pupa yìí nìkan ni ẹ̀ ń rí, lórí ìtàgé ńlá yìí.


But instead, I would like you to imagine that you're looking at seven million people crammed up here beside me today.


Ṣùgbọ́n dípo bẹ́ẹ̀, màá fẹ́ kí ẹ rò ó wí pé ẹ̀ ń wo mílíọ́nù méje ènìyàn tí wọ́n fúnpò ní ẹ̀gbẹ́ mi níbí lónì.


Seven million people across the world have died as a result of tobacco in the past year alone.


Mílíọ́nù méje ènìyàn káàkirí àgbáyé ti kú nítorí kùkúyè ní ọdún tó kọjá nìkan.


Just imagine, if a brand new industry were launched today, and by the end of next June, that industry's products had killed seven million people.


Ẹ kọ̀ rò ó wò, tí wọ́n bá ṣe ìfilọ́lẹ̀ ilé-iṣẹ́ tuntun àyánrán kan lónì, ní ìparí oṣù Òkudù tó ń bọ̀, àwọn èròja ilé-iṣẹ́ yẹn ti pa mílíọ́nù méje ènìyàn.


Would any of us invest in that new, deadly industry?