A Humanoid Named Ola — Part One
By Kosoluchi Agboanike
Happy... Old Story Sunday? Well, we got a bit behind and didn't buy stories fast enough and, well, we ran out! So we're going to take a week (or two) to showcase some of our favorite stories from this past season. Think of it as a Daily Tomorrow Editor's Choice, as it were. Not only that, but for one week only, archives are free! Raid the archives, catch up on stories you missed, and give some appreciation to our wonderful writers. Think of it as a token of appreciation to our readers and a new opportunities for our writers to get some exposure. Enjoy! - The Editor
A HUMANOID NAMED OLA
By Kosoluchi Agboanike
The class order at Madam Adamma Saloon has been revised.
Top of the rung are the married women. Next in line are the engaged. A close third are the girlfriends. Fourth position goes to the divorced. They might have been second or third, but “I get am before” is not property. Singles come last. Not that they mind much. Because, you see, there are some people who are not even on the ladder.
Tech-displaced is the term somebody came up with. These are the women whose partners left for robots. All the women on the ladder look down on these. Even the singles. Because, in all honesty, how bad can a woman be that her partner cannot even accord her the dignity of replacing her with her fellow woman?
If the women who lost their men to humanoids are not on the ladder, then the humanoids are not even deigned acknowledgement by the women of the Saloon. Madam Adamma herself put up a sign outside that declares:
NO NON-HUMANS ALLOWED. GO AND COLLECT YOUR BEAUTY FROM YOUR MANUFACTURER.
The women know this extra aggression on Madam Adamma’s part stems from the time she nearly fell headlong from the top of the ladder, when her husband started eyeing some Lisa Pro Max that his company purchased to help in the reception.
The thing about Madam Adamma Saloon is that everybody knows their place. If you don’t like where you are, ask your mates what they did to climb up. There is no deconstructing of social constructs in this Saloon. The constructors used stone-age stones.
Kosoluchi Agboanike writes prose, poetry, and plays from Nigeria. Her work has appeared in African Writer, Anathema, Olongo Africa, and elsewhere. She was the 2021 winner of the Emeka Anuforo Prize for Best Literary Artist of the Year.
Copyright © 2024 Kosoluchi Agboanike