I grew up in a village on the Greek island of Rhodes. My parents moved there from just outside Cologne in 1966, when I was a year old. They had wanted a more simple life, and they had been to Greece a few times and fallen in love with the Mediterranean light and Greek hospitality. Our house had no running water and only a little electricity, but we lived by the sea and it was beautiful.
One day, when I was two, we found a young donkey in the village. It had probably been abandoned by someone who couldn’t afford to keep it. We christened it Benjamin. I don’t know whose idea it was, but my father, Hans Limmer, and a Swedish friend of his in our village, Lennart Osbeck, thought it would be fun to make a children’s book about it – neither of them had written one before.
My father wrote the story and Lennart took pictures. They used me as the main character. It’s a simple children’s tale about a father and daughter who go for a walk, find a baby donkey and bring him home. The donkey becomes part of the family; the little girl takes him to the hills, to the beach, she shows him her cat, introduces him to her baby sister.
The book was published in Germany in 1968, as Mein Esel Benjamin, and sold well – enough for us to live on – and is now on its 42nd edition; it was also translated into English and other languages, and has sold more than two million copies worldwide.
We didn’t keep the donkey for long. Donkeys were everywhere, and they were very much working animals – there were hardly any cars on the island, so they were mainly a means of transport.
Due to the book’s popularity in Germany, and because our village was easily identifiable in the photographs, we occasionally had people from Germany show up at our house, wanting to meet me and the donkey. I didn’t like it, and would always disappear to my room while my parents would ask them to respect our privacy. The books weren’t published in Greece, so no one at school knew about them.
I never loved the book as a child: I think it was because it was me, but it didn’t feel like me. My childhood might sound idyllic, but we weren’t out picking flowers all the time, and we lived without the luxuries of a washing machine or a telephone. Saying that, we had a lovely time: it was nice to go swimming all summer long.
I left Greece and went back to Germany when I finished school, but my parents stayed on. Now I’m 52. I’ve had four children, but I haven’t read the book to them very often; they’ve never been that interested in it. But lots of people my age remember it. No one would recognise me as this child now.
After this book did so well, my father wrote another: it featured my sister and was called My Pig Paulina – I really like that one. Dad died in Greece two years ago, aged 88. He carried on writing for himself, and I’m still going through all his things. In the new edition, My Donkey Benjamin is called a “Modernist classic”: he’d be tickled by that.
• A new edition of My Donkey Benjamin, by Hans Limmer and Lennart Osbeck, is published by Scribe at £10.99.
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