Canada, My Country
Travelling across the world to finally settle in a new country 15,000 kms away
My father, Alois Čepka, was born in Ostrava, Moravia, Czechoslovakia in 1910. He trained with Bata, a Czech company, in the rubberware department and worked his way up. Because of his extensive expertise in exporting tires, and knowledge of English, he was offered a job in Singapore, Malaysia, to open a motor tire division for Bata, (who became a world-wide shoe company) to distribute tires in the Far East. He began work in Singapore in March, 1938, and worked there for eight years. When Wwll made its way to the Pacific after the bombing of Pearl Harbour, my dad was mobilized as he had enlisted in the British volunteer army. He later became a prisoner-of-war and was incarcerated in the Changi POW Camp after Japanese forces invaded the island of Singapore.
When the war ended, my dad returned to Czechoslovakia and married my mother who was from Sušice, located in the westernmost region of Bohemia. They sailed from England to Singapore in early 1947; I was born in June, 1948, and my brother, Ed, in May 1951. We lived in Singapore up until the threat of a civil war breaking out. My father bravely led my mother, brother and me all the way across the world in search of a fresh start in the land of opportunity—canada. I was five and my brother two when we left by ship, stopping in India, and Italy. We also stopped in Vienna, which allowed us to stay with relatives for two weeks. My father’s brother and family also visited from Czechoslovakia but my father didn’t want to jeopardize our future by taking us to his homeland, which was now under Communist rule. I don’t even know if he was allowed to visit there and it was particularly hard on my mother to be so close to her home yet not be able to visit.
We continued our trip by train through Germany, visiting Amsterdam on the way. Our stay in England was three weeks before we boarded the Liberté and arrived in New York. Settling in the United States was never part of the plan and since my parents were now British subjects (by living in Singapore) they wanted to stick to a Commonwealth country, so we made the trip north to Toronto. At one point, Australia was also under consideration
but I’m glad we came to Canada. It had been a long journey and everyone was sick and stressed. We quickly learned that there were different seasons from the tropical ones we previously knew. I longed for a red winter coat, but a sturdy grey Melton cloth coat was bought for me instead, with room for growth. Two-year-old Eddie and I had never seen snow before. “My face will freeze!” my brother cried, running inside.
We were only in Toronto for ten months, where my father had hoped to continue his tire business, but the competition proved to be too stiff and it never worked out. Instead, he worked heavy labour jobs in construction and on an assembly line but eventually decided to move us all to Port Alberni, B.C., where another family from Singapore lived.
When we finally settled in Port Alberni on Vancouver Island, the weather was milder and my parents felt more at home. Snow was more of a special event there, and how thrilling to slide down a steep hill on pieces of cardboard and linoleum. My favourite season was summer. As children, we ran through the sprinkler with neighbourhood friends and I taught myself to swim in the quiet waters of a shallow creek. My parents sighed with contentment, as their eyes scanned the surrounding hills and forests which reminded them of their native country of Czechoslovakia. Our family quickly made friends and we took root in our new country. My father started off by working in the plywood mill, but the physical labour was too hard on him, so he changed gears and worked mostly as a bookkeeper after that. He even went on to open his own accounting firm before retiring in his early ‘70s.
When 1967 rolled around, it was Canada’s 100th birthday. I was 19, my patriotism was in full bloom and I blared out the words of our official bilingual centennial song on my record player on our front porch for all the neighbours to hear.
“Ca-na-da ! Un petit, deux petits, trois Canadiens, Notre pays!”
Eventually my parents took out Canadian citizenship for the whole family and we made Canada our permanent home. Sixty-six years after arriving here, together with my Canadian-born husband, Terry, and our children and grandchildren, I count myself blessed and privileged to be living in Canada.