Working class hero: Al Hussan Okine

By day Al Hussan Okine works as a panel stretcher for a construction firm on the Al Quoz Industrial estate. But by night he becomes the Ghanaian Van Damme, a fearless UAE national kickboxing champion who stuns his opponents with electrifying flurries and hollowing hooks.

This other life, one of bright lights, blood-baying crowds, title-belts and ring-card-girls, is at odds with the realities awaiting the humble 35-year-old the moment his gloves are off.
Returning home to a staple diet of bread, rice and tea, 11-hour shifts, a six-day working week and squalid labour camp accommodation shared with 4,000 other workers gives Hussan all the more reason to hang on to his alias with an unclenching grip.

Holding on for the glamour of fight night which could be up to six months away if he doesn’t get injured  he leaves the cramped conditions of his room, shared with eight other labourers, to train two hours a night at Zack Taumafai’s KO Gym in Dubai Marina.

Round two

Hussan came to Dubai two years ago for a better life, and to team back up with his former Ghanaian national team coach Zack, which meant he’d get greater training and fight exposure – and even the possible opportunity to turn pro one day.

Until then, there’s reliable full-time employment here too. However much he hates his day job, it’s a necessary compromise that he begrudgingly accepts so that he can fit in more fights against better fighters.

But as much as he claims fighting is his ‘real job’, it’s sadly not the one that pays. And of his monthly Dh1,200 construction paycheck, half goes back home to Accra, Ghana, to support his family.

I first met Hussan on the eve of a best-of-four kickboxing tournament held at Chi Gardens, Oud Metha. For the first time in his career (he’s fought four times and lost once), there’s prize money on the table.

If successful, Hussan could take home total winnings of Dh11,500 over two fights, a fairytale sum that would keep his family back home in Ghana going for six months.

He insists on my interviewing him in a supermarket car park outside his gym because he doesn’t want to tread dirt across his trainer’s parquet flooring. So we’re outside, looking in through panelled glass while his gym mates thwack punching bags. His reflection portrays a man in work rags, tired, hungry and dishevelled from a day’s hard graft, but his eyes are alive.

Hussan explains, “The work in the UAE is no good for me. With the Ghanaian cedi pegged to the US dollar, my salary works out to about 450 cedis; unlike the Indians and Pakistanis I work with, it’s almost not worth me being here other than to fight two or three times a year more than I would in Ghana. My dream is to quit construction and concentrate all I have on kickboxing.”

Ringside seat

But things aren’t happening quite as quickly as he’d like; kickboxing is in a fledgling state in the UAE. More extreme mixed martial arts like the Ultimate Fighting Championship (UFC) may be gaining pay-per-view ground over boxing internationally, but conservative local beliefs, red tape surrounding venues, visas, permits and a lack of sponsorship due to recession, mean kickboxing is struggling to hit off and become anything more than another night class at your local gym.

Lucy Tui, president of the World Kickboxing Federation, said at a press conference to announce the K04 – Hussan’s latest fight – that “the standard of fighting and crowd turnout has improved with every event. Champions have come here for world title fights, and it’s gone the distance, so it’s clear the sport is building regionally. In the next five years, Dubai will be the place to come for kickboxing.”

By then Hussan will be 40. Should he take solace knowing he’s marketing a fringe sport for future generations, and make do with a daily life of drudgery, seeking escapism through the occasional bout?

Or is he still primed for the big time, ready to fight his way out of the labour camp and do his family proud with bigger remittances?

The 40-year-old knock out

Local rival kickboxing instructor Anthony Willis from the UK, who promotes the sport among youngsters, doubts Hussan will get his happy ending.

“In five years, so many kids will enter the sport that a 40-year-old won’t be able to take the punishment. If Hussan can progress quickly, he’ll do well, but neither pure fights nor a lot of money will come his way soon. The quality of fighting here is not yet world class, and money has never typically followed kickboxing. He’d be better off setting up his own gym to rival Zack. From there, he could grow young fighters and give Zack some matchmaking options. At the moment, it’s the same old fighters facing one another. That won’t grow the sport.”

Anthony adds, “I don’t want to see Hussan go the way of so many other good fighters I’ve known, who get injured and end up on the scrapheap with nothing to show for all their labours.”

But Hussan remains convinced. “I won’t fall by the wayside. I will fight until I am pro, and although my age is great, my body is still young. Time will not affect me.”

Hussan’s Australian/Samoan trainer Zack sees a brighter side. “He’s already fighting pro; it’s just not on paper. His visa is the only thing holding him back. When I brought him here, I could only get him in on a friend’s visa because I didn’t have my own company at the time. Hussan finishes his two year contract in a few months, so I’m looking to bring him back over on my new visa, KO Promotions, which means he’ll become a full-time fighter.”

As to whether Hussan can hang on to his career long enough to ride a supposed future UAE kickboxing wave, Zack says, “It’s down to who you are. Hussan’s a natural fighter; he’s always fought and will continue to fight for what he wants. It’s down to his background; there are places in Ghana you really don’t want to be violence sorts out issues there, and if  you lose a fight, your whole tribe beats you. It’s in his nature to fight. And he wants it, so I can’t see him giving up.”

Zack adds, “Either way, financially he’s better off here with me. His work may be tough, but his contract is nearly up.”
 
Into the ring

On fight night, Shabba Ranks’ Mr Loverman plays as Hussan jives his way to the prize ring. He helped Zack build the ring this morning at 3.30am, but even after this, as well as a week of work, he looks energised, spurred on by a crowd who’ve probably each spent the equivalent of his monthly food allowance in their first ten minutes ringside.

Tonight Hussan’s not a labourer; he stands proud with zero body fat and a ripped set of abs. As his trainer gives him the ritualistic Tiger Balm rub down, the whites of his eyes focus unflinchingly on the opposition’s corner.

The draw has pitched Hussan against ‘The Scorpion’, Najmeddin Al Haddad of Canada, in the first round. The winner will then face Lebanon’s Mahmoud Radwan in the final, who’s just made light work of Uzbekistan’s Sardorbek Qodirov, winning by unanimous decision.

Unbeaten in 20 bouts, 19 of which he won by knock-out, Najmeddin is a self-trained WBL Middle East Muay Thai/kickboxing champion who’s had over 280 fights if you include his amateur record. Most of these scalps are documented on YouTube. It’s too bad Hussan doesn’t have internet at home.

While The Scorpion’s reputation precedes him, Zack has confidence in his wild card. “I’ve seen Hussan knock out people’s front teeth and break jaws. He’s 64kg, but has KO’d a 98kg opponent. We even put him in a welterweight world title fight at the last minute without training, and he went the distance.”

By the second of three two minute rounds, Zack’s faith is rewarded. The Scorpion’s balance is shot and a doctor is called into the ring to deal with blood spouting from his ear. His nostrils are flaring and his eyes betray the flustered look of an animal facing slaughter.

The crowd is on the edge of their seats as Najmeddin is battered again in the third, handing a unanimous points victory to Hussan. No one in the audience knows of Hussan’s circumstances, but they can sense from his spirit and showmanship that his is a cause worthier of support in the final.

Last round

Not that their cheers helped; against Lebanon’s Mahmoud Radwan who has 24 amateur fights and four pro under his belt, Hussan breaks the index finger on his left hand and is limited to kicks.

He carries on unperturbed for four rounds, a shadow of his former fight, only to record a marginal loss on points. The referee Pat O’Connor said it was, in all essence, “a draw that had to be decided for the benefit of the belt.” Lucy Tui, who judged the fight, added with some regret, “You can’t draw fights.”

But it’s no consolation to Hussan who’s now back in the darkness of his dressing room, grimacing at the prospect of having to remove his straps to spend the night in A&E and then take a week off work.

He’s made more than twice his monthly wage in a night, winning Dh1,500 from the semi and Dh2,000 as a runner-up in the final, but he’s lost out on the Dh10,000 winner’s cheque by all of a point.

His injuries mean he can’t train for six weeks, nor enter a competitive fight for at least two months, ruling him out of an opportunity to represent Ghana. All that’s left to focus on is his day job, which will be harder now given the pain.

Going pro would give Hussan a better standard of living and greater assurance should he get injured. That’s why, with nothing to lose, he hits, hoping the risks are worth it in the end.