2 The Fuente: Anwar

"Anwar"

"Anwar!", I heard a knocking sound with my name. I didn't flinch, or rather I couldn't flinch. I had been called up for questions, regarding the death of Lu (Lucy). I hadn't said a word to anyone since that night. I was in a room, bright light hanging above us, a table with two cups of coffee on it, two parallel chairs, with I and the detective on the murder case sitting. I'm sure they've been thinking I don't want to talk, because I'm guilty. But that wasn't it. I was undone. The woman I cared for the most, was murdered. Why didn't they just kill me instead?. The detective pulled his chair in, closer to me. He put his hands on the table, and took an audible deep breath in, and then sighed as he breathed out. He called himself detective Nas. He was not that tall, but was athletically built with caramel skin, this man had a plain feel about him. He has a round face with a square jaw, a partial goatee, a narrow nose, ears that stick out, defined cheekbones and puffy lips. His brown eyes are bulging, and he has neat eyebrows.He is naturally bald.He usually wears perfectly pressed, old fashioned clothes that are slightly too big.

"Oi.Look, Anwar. You been quiet since the incident. I reckon you knackered, of me pushing you to talk since then innit?, but you have to say something. From our search, we haven't seen the murder weapon. And all the people we called in for questioning have all rooted for you as the murderer. They could be right, but I believe you got something to say. Come on, lad. Say something!". He leaned in, looking at me keenly.

"I want to understand, why are you not talking?!. Why?, you think keeping shut would prove your innocence? Huh? You don't fancy a row? Or you just fancy yourself a do-gooder?. That fact is, you're a frontline suspect. And what you say matters most. I'm trying to help here lad. So come on, help me too. Scratch my back, I scratch yours". He took his cup of coffee, as he leaned back. As took gentle slow sips, as he glared at me. He was waiting for me to talk. I wanted to. I had been mute, for so long. But I can't trust anyone, I can't trust people I have no reason, no proof to trust. It has been my biggest mistake. Twice. And as my dad always told me, "humans are allowed the same mistake,twice. The third, is a choice". I can't choose to make mistakes. Not right now, not when it costs so much. But then, even if we're to talk. Where do I start from?.

The question I asked myself, brought me flashes from my lane. I could remember, six months back, when I got job at the Director-General's The Internal Audit & Control Unit (IA&CU) of the Debt Management Office of Nigeria. I along side nine others, were taken on board because of our various, unique, and distinctive qualities in fields of finance. The journey I embarked on, the adventures, the struggles and everything else, were finally rewarded. Aside the intense strifes through school, and the harshness of the labor market I endured, my old, ailing father, had to go from one elder statesman to another, only so I can get up there, with a less tardy road to success. My father, Saif Aslan, MA, CON, used to be a renowned and eminent author. He wasn't rolling in money, even with the fame, because of his principles and ideology of having deep pockets. He was stable enough, and had the necessary connections. By the time I got appointed at the DMO, I got the last slot of the ten needed. I was the last appointee, an unexpected one too. Apparently I was the last person to start work, so I had it at the back of my mind, that I was going there hard, determined and undeterred. And so I did.

On my first day at work, I started off right how I wanted it, sharp and diligent. The Director general wasn't in that day, so I didn't get the oriental tête-à-tête. On every aspect it was good, except that the people kept giving me a strange look. It was like they thought I got misplaced or something, maybe because I didn't introduce myself or the D.G wasn't around to do so, I'd have to wait till the next week. But, nonetheless, I didn't come to read people's countenance, so I didn't think much about it. My first day at work was lovely.

The next day went fine too, and on it went. Till the memorable second week. The D.G. was around, she was a really nice person. Ms. Evelyn Calvert, eccentric, She has an oval face, a small nose, and narrow lips. Her dark brown eyes are angular and she has well groomed eyebrows. She has shoulder-length, curly, black hair which is spiky. She has short arms. She has muscular arms, a thick torso with large breasts, and weak legs. She usually wears old fashioned clothes that are mostly light-coloured and loose, and she wears lots of jewellery. She gave me personal words of advice, after an oriental tête-à-tête. She then proceeded to address the whole unit. I walked beside her as she went to address everyone. They were gathered in the conference room, sitted. Where we joined in and sat.

"Ability is what you're capable of doing. Motivation determines what you do. Attitude determines how well you do it. I want you all, to be earnest and diligent about your work here. And remember, discipline is of immense importance here. We have rules, guidelines, and expectations. Lastly, we begin with the end in mind. The End? Our Goals. It's not the load that breaks you down, it's the way you carry it. Let's do it! A team!", and we applauded her. The speech was rather short, but it imbibed passion.

"Oh lastly, here is Anwar. Anwar Aslan. Our last and latest. Remember, he's now part of the team. Your friend, brother, and more". She gave a pat on my lower back, then turned to the exit and left. I noticed the lady seated across me, at the other end of the table, looking at me with a mysterious smile. She stood slowly, whilst still glaring, and walked out like she was on a catwalk. This tan skinned woman had a confident feel about her. She had a triangular face with a pointed chin, a bulbous nose, small ears and slim lips. Her black eyes are small, and she had smooth eyebrows.She had short, thick, brunette hair which is pulled into a ponytail. She wore dark mascara. She had short arms and small hands, a lean torso with modest breasts with a well-defined waist, curvy hips, short legs. She usually wore ripped, inappropriate clothes that was colorful and form fitting, and she wore a gold earring in one ear. The jacket she was wearing was distinctive.

I stood up, put my papers together, moved to the door. On my way out, I might have gotten distracted by my thoughts. I didn't notice anything. Till I hit some guy. On a second thought, he didn't look like I hit him. He stood there, to block me from passing. He took what he probably thought to be an intimidating stance. He was almost as tall as I was. This red skinned man has a shy feel about him, and he has a small scar, cut on his head. He has a triangular face with a round chin, a small nose, large ears, smooth cheeks with a partial goatee and thin lips. His light brown eyes are large, and he has angular eyebrows. His black hair, dyed completely sky blue, is very short, straight and is styled with a crew cut. He had strong arms and powerful hands, a stocky torso, a non-existent waist, and strong legs.

"Anwar. Anwar Aslan. I'm Joe. Joseph Akuma", he extended his hand and me a gripping, firm hand shake. He pointed behind me. I turned a bit you where he pointed. It was another colleague, sitting with his legs crossed on the table, muscular with tan skin, this man has a troublesome feel about him. He has deep-set light blue eyes and his short, thick, black hair is styled with a fade.

"That's Mo, Mohammed Ali", and the Mo guy, waved at me with a stern look. Then Joe pointed to someone again, another male colleague, who was standing by the window. Standing tall and lightly built with fair skin, this man has a generally unsuitable feel about him.

He has expressive brown eyes and his short, thick, dark brown hair is un-styled.

"That's Mesh. Meshach Judas", and the guy raise an eyebrow. Seemingly though I guessed.

"My dad is a Senator", Joe added.

"Mo's dad is a Governor", he pointed to Mo again.

"And Mesh, he...the Army's Lieutenant General, and the Chief of Army Staff". as he pointed to Meshach. He put his hand on my shoulder, then gave me two soft but heavy pats.

"What about you, Anwar? What does your daddy do? Where does he work?"

I stuttered, " He...uhmm used to b-be an au-",

"USED TO BE an author", Joe cut me short.

"My point exactly Anwar, you're nobody, son of a nobody. You don't belong here, and you never will". He put his hand off my shoulder, with a belittling look. He then show me out, with his hand. As I walked out, I felt a sudden jolt. I almost fell, but I regained balance quickly, but my papers and stapler fell. I looked at Joe, then Mo, and then Meshach. I smiled, and bent on one knee to pick my stuff.

"Oh, last but not least", Joe whispered into my ear.

"Steer away from Lucy", with a stern and serious voice. Then he walked away, Mo followed, and then Meshach.

"Stupid dreg", Meshach said, and the other two laughed as they walked away.

As I picked up the papers, I looked at the direction the stapler fell at. But I saw that a lady hand picked it up. Short, this chubby, caramel skinned woman has a curious feel about her. She has a square face with a softly shaped jaw, a pointed nose, ears that stick out, smooth cheeks and very thin lips. Her black eyes are small, and she has thin eyebrows. She has shoulder-length, thick, black hair which is styled in decorative braided cornrows. She wears thin eyeliner, pinkish lipstick, complex eyeshadow, and glittery foundation as part of the social norm. She has pierced her left upper ear. She has full arms, a short torso with provocatively whacking breasts, with a narrow waist, and short legs. She wore ripped, extravagant clothes with jeans, that were earth-coloured and modest, and she wore no jewellery. She is usually seen wearing a black veil. I went to her, she seemed surprised, or lost for some reason. Her name was May. I got the stapler, and went on to do my work. Thinking of the plight I'd be in if what just happened were to go on, and if I'd last long in this place.