In The Eyes Of A MadMan A mad man sees things that no one else sees and he laughs because the things he sees are beautiful. Nnadi, a young man newly entering his second decade in Umuturu village, placed a pad upon his shoulder and lifted the basket of cassava onto it. He whistled as he plotted his way out of the farm wielding his knife against the undergrowth, the farm had yielded generously this season. The plot, well placed at the side of the hill–when the rains came, the water would rush calmly through – near the market, was the source of a tension between his father and an uncle after their father died. A legal battle had named Nnadi’s father the owner of the land. Nnadi walked away from the farm in his stoutly gait. He stared at the palm trees along the farm and could see red ripening nkwu, he made a mental note to come back for them. Suddenly he saw a bird coming at him hastily out of nowhere, its wings were steady, and it seemed to glide. He thought, as all birds did, th...