 |
| Image: Instagram |
In the gripping Nigerian TV series To Kill A Monkey, there are many characters who stir strong emotions—some sympathetic, some controversial—but none left me as emotionally wrecked and enraged as Nosa, played with almost too much precision by veteran actress Stella Damasus. And yes, that’s the same Stella Damasus known for her powerful performances in Nollywood classics. But in this series, she embodies something far more unsettling—a quiet storm of indecision and emotional destruction.
Nosa isn’t your typical antagonist. She’s not overtly manipulative, not loud, not malicious in the obvious sense. But her emotional confusion, her inability to separate love from fear, and her poor communication skills are just as devastating as any villain’s sword. One moment she’s questioning Efe’s (the protagonist’s) choice to walk away from a life-changing job offer. The next, when he finally gives in and accepts it, she recoils in fear. Why? Because the job came with a house and a car—perks that suddenly reminded her of who the offer came from: a man from their university days with a shady, possibly dangerous past.
That would’ve been the perfect moment for clarity. A warning. A proper conversation. But instead, she panics. She spirals. And Efe, already exhausted by life and rejection, is left trying to make sense of her silence.
Let’s not pretend—we all saw the fallout coming. Efe wouldn’t have ended up entangled with Ms Sparkles if Nosa had just held herself together. But by the time he was slipping, Nosa had already emotionally checked out and started leaning into the comfort of the Doctor—Efe’s friend, no less.
And then came that scene.
The one where Efe walks into his room and finds the Doctor there with her.
In his house. In his space. His sanctuary.
It wasn’t just a betrayal—it was a spiritual slap. That wasn’t a mistake; it was a declaration. And I don’t care what moral lens you’re using—nothing prepares a person for the sight of betrayal in their own home. If it had happened somewhere else, maybe Efe could’ve swallowed the pain and walked away with dignity. But in his own bed? With someone he trusted?
I was boiling. My chest was hot. If I were Efe, that Doctor would’ve left the house in a wheelchair. And Nosa? She would’ve had to find the nearest therapist, because the version of me that would’ve emerged from that scene wouldn’t be the same again.
What makes Nosa so frustrating is how she still paints herself as the emotionally wounded one. The victim. But this is the kind of woman who, years later, would poison her children’s minds against their father. She would wear self-righteousness like perfume and gaslight everyone into thinking she was just “doing her best.”
She didn’t just hurt Efe. She broke him.
And while we’re at it, let’s spare a minute for Ivie—another storm in human form. Her ungratefulness? Predictable. Honestly, it’s like Nollywood writers have decided Teniola Aladese should carry every bad-decision trope they can find. From Christmas in Lagos to this, her characters are like walking red flags wrapped in sweet words and bad timing. But even Ivie didn’t grind my gears like Nosa did.
Nosa is dangerous. She’s the kind of woman who confuses guilt with care, and whose moral compass spins like a faulty fan—no true direction, just chaos disguised as emotion.
So yes, for me, the real villain in To Kill A Monkey wasn’t the man with the job offer, or the conniving Doctor. It was Nosa—played with disturbing effectiveness by Stella Damasus.
And I pray I never meet anyone like her in real life.
Ever.
#ToKillAMonkey
#KemiAdetiba
#StellaDamasus
No comments:
Post a Comment