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My great-grandfather’s grandfather was a farmer when the only means of transport would be a donkey. He lived in a small village up in the mountains in central Italy. At the time the whole of this area was infested by robbers. They refused categorically to acknowledge the authority of the reign of Italy. They used to ransack villages and steal everything which could turn out to be useful...and no one would ever dare get in their way as it would mean risking their own lives. My great-grandfather used to start telling this story in the same way. “One early spring morning they broke into my grandfather’s fenced area and took away his poor donkey.” He was aware he had lost his valuable donkey forever. He felt inevitably miserable. Times were tough and he would have to wait ages until he could afford to buy a new donkey. One summer afternoon, he was sitting in the shadow near his house to keep away from the scorching sun when he casually pointed his gaze towards a road leading up to one of the main squares of the village as if he had sensed something. In the distance he just could make out a figure which resembled that of a donkey. As it came closer, he was overcome by the pleasant feeling that it might be his beloved donkey. And this was very soon confirmed! His donkey had made all his way back home and, much to his surprise, he was carrying two big bags...sort of knapsacks full of golden napoleons. He was wondering how did they end up on the back of his donkey. He came into the conclusion that some robbers must have used the poor donkey to carry them after some major robbery. He knew that if donkeys are not tied up fast, they make their ways home even after many years. Out of the blue, my great-grandfather had become so wealthy that he started granting loans to people. Initially they were just close friends, in need of financial help, but as time passed, news travelled fast and more and more people turned to him. He had gained a good reputation. All in all, he was not a loan shark and even his sons squandered all that money. To these days, you can still see the image of the donkey carved in the arch-shaped stone above the door where he lived. And all his lineal descendants, including my family, are known as ‘Napoleons.’