The Call NoBend: The Long Hustle
The Call NoBend
The Long Hustle
Life everywhere was complicated. For many years, the nation had become a dystopian state: governments fallen, wars still plagued the north, the economy collapsed, and any recovery seemed a mere dream. Suffering, trials and errors were the norm for everyone, with each person fending for themselves. Survival was reserved for the fittest, the rich, and the favoured. The only places that seemed stable, liveable, and fair were most of the central and some of the western regions, where many sought refuge, yet even these were far from true havens.
Despite the widespread suffering and injustices, things became worse for Mrs. Ataho Odoc after the death of her beloved husband, Mr. Odoc Edwin. Her life crumbled; her greedy in-laws rejected her, seizing everything her husband had left behind—everything that rightfully belonged to her and her three children: her firstborn son Allan, Ojar, and her youngest daughter, Aber. From then on, they endured a difficult life.
Nevertheless, she never lost hope, morale, or the energy to strive for a better life. She hustled day and night, exploring every possibility, never relenting or tiring. She managed everything by herself, sought gigs, and worked strenuously, gradually improving their living standards.
From her gigs and toils, she managed to save some pennies and bought a hoe. In Katooke, the slum village where they dwelled, most of the roadside land was unclaimed. She made use of it, cultivating onions, groundnuts, and maize along it...
They had become accustomed to their hardships, and life seemed stable until a new quagmire ambushed them: her beloved daughter, Aber, developed a severe acute ailment that required immediate attention. Overwhelmed and despondent, Mrs. Ataho felt helpless and hopeless.
However, a compassionate man who had noticed their long struggle offered help. He compelled them to a place called Baango, to an estate known as Ngere Havens, that could allow them relatively free medical care.
Mrs Ataho was familiar with the place but had always been reluctant to seek help there, believing its conditions were worse. Now, however, it was the only option, the only way forward. The situation was dire, she was very desperate, never even thought about it, or hesitated, but only gathered what she could carry, with her sons they pushed strides forward on a quest to Baango.
The Ngere Havens estate was a sprawling private property at the far northern edge of Baango town, covering about 500 hectares. It was filled with vast farms of coffee, bananas, livestock, maize, sorghum, cotton, and forests, and was also rife with illegal mining and other operations in the surrounding areas.
Life there bordered on enslavement, as most people worked merely for food. The lucky and hardworking earned modest commissions. Every newborn child within the estate or born to any of its workers was considered an asset of the estate. However, the estate also offered many free services and privileges, such as graveyards, playgrounds, security, free education for children, and comprehensive medical services. Residents were free to leave whenever they wished.
The journey was long and perilous for an unescorted woman in wicked lands, taking nearly two days, but hope propelled her forward. At last, they reached the gates of Ngere Havens.
At the recruitment centre, many had proceeded them, the queue was long, too long for her sick child to wait...
At the front of the line was always Mr Muloto, the tall, hefty, talkative resident director and manager of the estate, who dictated the recruitment process, imposing his methods, principles, and qualifications at will. With him was Mr. Ssegula, the deputy manager.
Mrs. Ataho was well qualified by any qualities Muloto could ever impose. A young beautiful lady she was, her allure and vigour unbeatable, with everything Muloto could ever desire on a woman, but still he selected her not!
On her pleading, he allowed her into his office—a tactic he often used. Inside, with only the walls as witnesses, the unscrupulous manager bombarded her with inhumane excuses. “I’m sorry mum, you can’t just fluke in and expect our immediate privileges, we got principles and methods here, there got to be no rushes, we don’t want to crush on any rebels. Or else, given your direness and allure, you can be presented as someone's spouse, someone well known here…” he could suggest.
Time froze for Mrs Ataho as she weighed her limited options. It was a common fate for many young women in the area. With no viable alternatives, she resigned herself to share the manager’s quarters—a grim bargain for her family’s survival, a destiny chosen.
Immediately after, he granted them a place in the estate and referred them to the infirmary, where her daughter Aber received urgent care. Mrs Ataho sighed with relief as Aber soon recovered.
She was given a position in the garden, alongside the other women in similar situations, and cowives. Her eldest son, Allan, was assigned to assist in the mines, while her clever younger son, Ojar, joined the delivery boys in the harvesting fields. They were provided with an unoccupied cabin near the manager’s house, which became their new home. Adjusting to their new environment was now their only concern.
On weekends, all children were excused from work to attend compulsory education, a privilege not extended to adults. For Ataho and her fellow workers, their dual responsibilities were unending.
Their daily routine began at 6 a.m., with a short break at 8 a.m. for porridge, before continuing work until lunch. Over time, they adapted to the hardships of estate life, which gradually became their new normal.
Ataho instilled in her children the essential traits for survival: unwavering and ironclad love for each other, mutual support through all adversities, steadfast unity, perseverance, and dignity. These values became so ingrained in her children that they were nicknamed “nobend” for their resilience, and grew up breathing them.
Years passed, and after nine years of service, the children had matured into indispensable, presentable young adults. The Ngere Havens had become their only home, living by the motto “Stay Alive and One.”
Aber, now fifteen, worked in the farm fields, embodying her mother’s virtues and allure.
Ataho, now the leader of her group, was revered as a mother figure by many; she was affectionately known as the ‘chief’s mother,’ a title reflecting her status and the respect she commanded. Her relationship with the manager was well-known.
Ojar, aged nineteen, worked in transportation and cherished his family above all.
The Ngere estate ventured into both legal and illegal activities, but it was the fighting tournaments that were the most valuable that it had become a religion in the area, for they brought the community together, temporarily making them forget of the wars, their struggles and sufferings.
People gathered from many places to come have fun in the arenas at the estate and Baango town. Many leagues were organised, but all ruled by the one mafia, lord Sam, the leader of the syndicate that owned the Ngere Havens Estate.
Allan, now 22, had loved the games and was crowned the champion of the entire Baango! Chief, he was called. He deserved it, for he was a hardworking man, his vigour masculinity aggressiveness and moral principles fitted him. Allan was a real-born fighter, a man growing up beating many wars of survival.
Being a Baango reigning champion, a chief, was no easy thing. The position was very respectful and came with many privileges, but also quite a boon and bane. A chief would earn handsomely, had no limits to girls, acquired a special house and recognition. It was a noble statue, one that relieved his family with hope, for he moved in with all of them, and supported them, as they also did. Everyone loved, respected and supported the Chief Allan.
However, a new challenge loomed on the horizon; a bane beckoning. An equally celebrated fighter from Kyenjoy, the country’s capital, named Megallox, had asked to toss with Allan in his home arena in Baango at the mighty Zimpe Stad arena, and Allan gladly accepted. It was the most anticipated event of the year, attracting crowds from all over, with high stakes involved.
Allan trained relentlessly, with his brother Ojar always by his side, and Aber always beside them, and always in a fighting mood she was, learning the moves for a fight she’d never have.
Guided by their coach, Jones, they splint rocks, carried logs, ran the roads, and sparred, preparing for the fight.
The estate, the town council, and other good-wishers provided unwavering support, bolstering his confidence as he trained under the watchful eyes of his enthusiastic fans. As the champion, Allan was the focus of the grand event.
The mafia lord Sam arrived early to oversee preparations and attend to his other business interests in the area. He met with Allan’s family to boost their spirits and demonstrate his unwavering support. Allan reassured him of his readiness and determination to defeat the notorious Megallox.
Megallox had arrived days earlier and was staying at a local hotel. As the grand match approached, excitement built: tickets sold out by the eve, Zimpe Stad was packed, gamblers placed their bets, and fans from all walks of life filled the stands, their cheers and chants unceasing. The match was also broadcast live on the radio, with listeners tuning in eagerly.
The atmosphere in the arena was electric, with preliminary matches setting the stage, but the crowd was restless and impatient for the main event.
That afternoon, the acting mayor of Baango, Mr. Kiconco, officially opened the match.
Allan, flanked by his brother and coach Jones, walked out to a thunderous ovation. Chants of “Allan the Chief, Allan the Rock Smasher” filled the arena and smoky fumes paved his way as he approached the ring, his presence commanding like a lion asserting its dominance. He entered the ring, calm yet focused, his eyes seeking out his mother in the VIP section for reassurance.
Minutes later, Megallox, accompanied by his team lead, made his entrance, greeted by jeers, disdain and irritating junkies from the crowd. Despite the hostile welcome, he reached his corner safely.
The MC, Madam Sumaiya, introduced the fighters.
The referee, a slender, brown-skinned elder from the city named Mr Shacool, signalled the start of the toss, scheduled for seven rounds totalling 88 minutes.
Megallox claimed the first round, but it appeared a mere warm-up to Allan, and his supporters remained optimistic. Allan dominated the second and third rounds, gaining momentum and securing the highest points by the fourth round.
But it was at the 4 minutes break before the fifth round that the unexpected twist occurred. Because Megallox was a syndicate’s pawn and his win was predetermined with heavy stakes, underestimating his Allan corner. The entire idea of the games was but to lush the pestilent and syndicate’s coffers, business always, games predetermined.
Everything was crystal clear, their trusted Megallox losing, he could never win the next rounds, not matching the desperate and determined champion, on his soil! Sam, realizing their mistake of underestimating his corner, and petrified losing, gestured to his man, coach Jones.
A bottle of water came to Jones, understanding the grim task at hand -business was business, however unwilling to renege he was, he gave the poor Allan to refresh, and refreshing he did. Ojar saw everything through his eyes but ignored it, for he believed they were the same team.
Amidst the next round, all in favour of Allan, to his surprise, he began feeling dizzy, his body not coordinating, losing balance!
Ojar was the first to notice the unusual; he knew his bro very well, faithful he could never freeze, but now he seemed freezing. He wondered, then figured out the empty bottle of water missing, becoming suspicious. “Could I have missed something…” he thought.
Allan lost total control of himself, only dodging blows he could, and everyone noticed something was very wrong with him, something unusual; Allan trembling, in motion, received some heavy rapid blows that knocked him out.
The arena fell silent, the crowd stunned terrified not only by the assured loss but by their boy's alarming condition. His mother watched in disbelief, puzzled helplessness, in a trance.
The referee counted down, and the boy could not move any of his parts, helpless he was, and Shacool declared Megallox the winner.
Coach Jones, feigning concern, rushed to Allan’s side as if he’d waited for him to fall, and Ojar followed instantly in agitation. Aber, not far, refused to witness the tragedy unfold, covering his face while sobbing and praying. The mother Ataho had now fallen unconscious in her seat, only the spirits aware of her thoughts, but the fear was certain. Worse was for Ojar whose hands affirmed on his bro’s unconscious body. However barely responsive, Allan was very alive inside, in denial, very wrathful, aware of how he was drugged, yet helpless.
The outcome sparked immediate scepticism and outrage among the spectators, who suspected foul play—a reputation long associated with the event’s organizers and mafias.
In the chaos, Allan was quickly taken to the clinic. The attending lady clinician determined he suffered internal bleedings that required urgent care beyond what was available. She administered the first aid she could.
Ojar puzzled on learning the news, but more terrified seeing his indispensable brother possibly dying. Still there, his mother was brought in, unconscious, shocked and traumatised seeing her beloved son, their pillar, their pride, fall in the ring.
Fans and family friends trafficked the clinic, in protest of the outcome, in support of their man, in solidarity with the family.
Aber arrived at the clinic to find her brother in dire straits. She embraced him, and together they faced a world seemingly turning against them—a tragedy compounded by their mother’s collapse into a coma and Allan’s suspected poisoning, with justice nowhere in hope.
Ojar’s grief transformed into suspicion when he realized their coach, Jones, was conspicuously absent from the clinic, raising doubts about his loyalty. He had always been wary of Jones, whose fealty was well to know bending towards those like lord Sam, who wielded money and power. In these harsh times, cruelty seemed to be the norm. Without a word or hesitation, Ojar set out to confront Jones, knowing exactly where to find him.
As soon as he left, lord Sam and the acting mayor arrived at the clinic to check on their fallen champion! Sam displayed boldness that seemed to calm the clusters, Whether they feared or respected him was a mystery but given his notorious reputation for ruthlessness and guarded by the cruellest men, no doubt...
He came under the guise of solidarity, but his true intentions were to sway any sceptics to his side, convincing being a caring man of his word, but unfortunately, the mother who could easily believe wasn’t back to sense.
They spoke with Aber and the family’s friends, took care of the hospital bills, and proposed transferring Allan to a city hospital for better treatment. On that, everyone agreed, trusting their leaders. The lady clinician confirmed Mrs. Ataho would recover soon, and with Ojar absent, Sam insisted on the young lass’s allure she would accompany her brother to the city, wherever Ojar was, would come back pay care to the mother.
Aber could not refuse the given sigh, the new hope, and an adventure to the city. Immediately, they left. The time was coming to late evening...
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