'I was a racist,' writes Lauren St John, looking back on her upbringing on a Rhodesian farm during the death throes of white rule. 'A child and a product of my environment, yes, but still a racist.' That seems a hard judgement. After all, many of the experiences on wich she bases her memoirs happened during her pre-adolescent years; indeed, she was barely fourteen when the country's guerrilla was ended, and independent Zimbabwe was born.