“It’s 1985, and I’m sitting on the veranda of my grandparents’ house in white Johannesburg. It’s a blazing December day, and I’ve just swum in their pool. Next to me my grandfather is listening to the cricket on the radio. Nesta, the black maid who has been working for my grandparents for decades, is cutting the chocolate cake. At the bottom of the garden, her grandchildren are playing in our old underpants from Europe. In 1985, apartheid is still going to last forever.” (FI – Simon Kuper)