By Jonas Jonasson
Hon började arbeta som femåring, blev föräldralös vid tio, överkörd vid femton. Ingenting tydde på annat än att hon skulle leva ett tag i sitt skjul i Sydafrikas största kåkstad och sedan dö, saknad av ingen. Om hon nu inte varit den hon var, males det var hon ju. Nombeko Mayeki var analfabeten som kunde räkna.
Ödet tillsammans med hennes talang för henne bort från Soweto, until internationell storpolitik, until eventually andra sidan jordklotet, until två identiskt lika och väldigt olika bröder. less than resan lyckas hon reta upp världens mest fruktade säkerhetstjänst innan hon en dag finner sig själv instängd i skåpet until eventually en potatisbil. Där och då är världen som världen känner den hotad.
I Analfabeten som kunde räkna gör Jonas Jonasson upp med fundamentalismen i alla dess former tillsammans med vanföreställningen om olika fogeys olika värde. Han gör det med humor och värme. Och slår en gång för alla hål på myten om att kungar inte nackar höns.
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Additional info for Analfabeten som kunde räkna
I was consequently led to favor mine, and this was a little concession to begin with. Even among us, I could not maintain complete equality. According to my comrades' condition, or the work they had to do, I gave an advantage to this or that one. Such distinctions are far-reaching, you can take my word for it. But decidedly I am tired and no longer want to think of that period. Let's just say that I closed the circle the day I drank the water of a dying comrade. No, no, it wasn't Du Guesclin; he was already dead, I believe, for he stinted himself too much.
You see the advantage, I am sure. The more I accuse myself, the more I have a right to judge you. Even better, I provoke you into judging yourself, and this relieves me of that much of the burden. Ah, mon cher, we are odd, wretched creatures, and if we merely look back over our lives, there's no lack of occasions to amaze and horrify ourselves. Just try. I shall listen, you may be sure, to your own confession with a great feeling of fraternity.  Don't laugh! Yes, you are a difficult client; I saw that at once.
There was a time when I didn't at any minute have the  slightest idea how I could reach the next one. Yes, one can wage war in this world, ape love, torture one's fellow man, or merely say evil of one's neighbor while knitting. But, in certain cases, carrying on, merely continuing, is superhuman. And he was not superhuman, you can take my word for it. He cried aloud his agony and that's why I love him, my friend who died without knowing. The unfortunate thing is that he left us alone, to carry on, whatever happens, even when we are lodged in the little-ease, knowing in turn what he knew, but incapable of doing what he did and of dying like him.