The man not three meters away from me on busy Waigani Road in Port Morseby is wielding in one hand a knife around a meter in length, blade blinding silver in the sun. But I am unafraid. I smile as I pass by, not submissively in hope of avoiding an imminent attack nor smugly, sure of deflecting any on-coming blade with my laptop-stuffed billum. No, I am smiling because in his other hand he is holding a lasciviously yellow mango which he is casually slicing, and I am sharing a moment of pleasure with him, anticipating the sweetness of the fruit sliding off the blade of the knife into his mouth.
