Growing up in Ojo Cantonment, my Dad and I were walking back from his friend from a Soldier in the Education Corp of the Nigerian Army, from Gongola state who had been made a Major. Just as we took a turn, from the officers' mess, a naked mad man was running towards us from the opposite direction, shouting Mad Man... Mad man... To my surprise, My Dad, who was a military man, told us to run for cover. So he dragged me behind a kerosine tank, pushed me to the ground and kept looking to see what the mad man was running from. Meanwhile, Some two Fulani men who used to come into the barracks regularly to read palms of anyone who yielded their hands to them, had been walking behind us, before we took cover. They kept walking.