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Nos activités

  • Le salon international de l’édition et du livre de Casablanca : 

C'est un événement annuel lors duquel nous représentons la Faculté de Médecine et de Pharmacie de Casablanca. Nous distribuons également des copies de la dernière édition et mettons en avant les différents talents artistiques et rédactionnels de nos membres. Nous en profitons également pour apprendre quelques notions d'anatomie aux jeunes enfants sous forme de jeux ludiques. 



  • Le lancement du magazine:

Nous organisons chaque année une cérémonie pour le lancement de la dernière édition (la santé mentale en 2018, les neurosciences en 2019) pour présenter le magazine et sa thématique aux étudiants de la faculté.

  • Conférences diverses : 

Nous choisissons au cours de l'année des sujets d'actualité pour lesquels nous organisons des conférences avec plusieurs intervenants de qualité notamment certains de nos professeurs et représentants d'associations.


-  Santé mentale : "Et si on en parlait autrement ?"

-  La spécialité a l'étranger : "Mode d'emploi"

-  Handicapable : "Mieux comprendre le handicap pour mieux accompagner les gens"


  • Salons littéraires :

Rencontres pendant lesquelles nos rédacteurs et artistes discutent de leurs inspirations et partagent leurs différentes techniques autour d'une table gourmande et de délicieuses boissons chaudes.


  • Sorties et Team buildings :

Nous accueillons chaque année nos nouveaux membres en organisant une journée d'intégration dans un cadre verdoyant avec plusieurs activités au rendez-vous pour leur permettre de faire connaissance avec les anciens membres et découvrir l'esprit de la famille Toubib.

- Team building 2020-2021





- Team building 2019-2020






  • Voyages : 

Nouveauté du club toubib, nous proposons à nos membres un voyage annuel loin du stress, des études et des stages hospitaliers. En 2020, le voyage a été fait à Essaouira avec au programme plein d'activités diverses et variées comme : la visite de galeries d'art, une longue balade à cheval, la découverte des monuments, des soirées…

 Concours de rédaction / Le prix du jeune médecin-pharmacien écrivain:

Pour encourager les capacités rédactionnelles des jeunes étudiants de l'UH2C et de la FMPC, nous organisons des concours de rédaction en différentes langues : français, arabe et anglais.




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Posts les plus consultés de ce blog

The last confession

Parents are forgotten gods. My first act of worship was not a prayer but irrevocable love for my parents. It was easy to cast parents as gods when they were your eyes to a new life. The slow movement of your mouth as your teeth grind food, the small steps that you take confidently in a stride now, the smile that goes too wide because there is no shame in showing a moment of joy: all of my parents’ teachings live through me. I was their New Testament, their Vedas, their Torah, and so were they to me. Their voices wrestled in my head at every decision. What would my parents do? In moments of fear, I reached for the safe blanket of parental security to take cover in. Their ideas seemed so big and inconceivable. My inexperience ascended them to the pedestal of gods. I sought their blessing as earnestly as any believer. Heaven was the small smile of approval. Hell was the disappointment concealed behind indifference. It was important to maintain this balance, albeit impossible; my brain fou...
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To you, my June

  I am sick of the smell of this hospital. It irritates my nostrils, I hope I never get to smell it again. The beds are washed with low quality bleach, the one they get for dirt cheap, its stench so strong it blinds you at first. They wash the sheets everyday, as if us breathing on them, touching them, is enough to sully their fabric to the point of no return. The nurses look at you, the most beautiful man to have walked this earth, and turn their scrunched noses away. They never see past your chart. They don't glimpse the ethereal beauty that entranced me the first time I saw you, that got me hooked until now. I walked into a room so familiar it felt like home. All the voices harmonizing on that stage were ones I knew and loved. Gary's baritone, Adam's slightly higher pitch, and Paul's inability to hold a note, they all mixed into an amalgamation of sounds that felt like a hug. I was never a singer before meeting these people, never cared for it, but I was starved for ...
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What do I do with this love?

  Today I woke up as one does. I had my cup of coffee, part of a routine I don't dare disturb. I wore the same outfit I had on yesterday, it wasn't hard to find it. It was right where I left it last night. And the night before. In a sad heap by the foot of my bed. I couldn't wear my rings, or anything on my wrist, its heaviness would make everything else unbearable. I left the house, keys jingling as I shoved them in my bag. I would struggle to fish them out of the mess when I get back, but that's something I'll have to figure out later. The bus is late, it always is. By the time I can see its carcass in the horizon, I've already developed a dull ache in my left knee. I wince as I climb the step. I pay the man whose face won't hold a place in my memories, they are already filled to the brim. I take a space to sway back and forth during a journey I know too well. The familiarity of it all is what makes it easy to navigate. It requires no effort to redo someth...
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