Continuing my youth journey and how I was led, this section describes the highlights of the two years of my life in Sweden as a young teenager. It is another part of an upcoming book or website section entitled Divinely Led.
Part 1: Growing up in a Communist Society
Life in Sweden
After my arrival in Gothenburg, I enjoyed several weeks at home during which time my parents bought me a few additional clothes. Since my mother and I arrived back with only one suitcase, most of my clothes remained behind. One item I specifically regretted losing was a lovely watch that my father’s aunt from Vienna gave me some years prior. It was playing up and one of the schoolteachers kindly took it to a repair shop in Pelhrimov for me. But I did receive a new watch, not straight away, but before too long as well.
After my vacation, I started school. Not knowing the Swedish language was a bit scary, but speaking a bit of German helped. God provided a kind class teacher, Ingela Hallersjo, with whom I kept in occasional contact even after I got married, and so did my parents. The teacher appointed a German-speaking student to look after me – Elaine Johnson. She was very kind, took me to her home before the afternoon classes and made sure I was at the right place at the right time.
One day, there was an excursion to a butter factory though it wasn’t for my class on that particular day. A well-meaning Polish student who I got to know a little encouraged me to join the group she was in – perhaps a bit like the blind leading the blind. It all ended well, but I remember not being in quite the right place at the right time on that day and finding it a bit traumatic.
For the most part, things went well and I had some kind teachers besides Ingela. I really liked my English teacher, Ingrid Ingblad, and was sorry to see her go on maternity leave after about one semester in her class. I also liked the German teacher, whose name I no longer remember. I managed to do quite well at school despite the language challenge. I was picking up Swedish as I went along and the academic level of classes was not too high. In the second year, I also started learning English and did quite well also.
During my second year in Sweden, the family moved to a brand-new flat in Tynnered, a new suburb at the end of one of the tram lines. I didn’t want to change schools, and commuting students received an unlimited free tram pass. That year, I no longer went to Elaine’s home between the morning and afternoon classes, but took a tram to the sea – which coming from a land-locked country was quite special. It was a rocky coast area, but quite picturesque and nice to get away. Other times I went to the city and did some window shopping. Even though I did quite well academically, socially I became a bit of a loner. However, I enjoyed exploring Gothenburg and the free tram pass gave me wonderful opportunities to do that.
In the summer of 1966, after finishing one school semester, my well-meaning parents wanted me to attend some kind of a camp to further improve my Swedish. Someone recommended to them what turned out to be a confirmation Bible camp! I didn’t really know what was happening, but ended up getting confirmed along with the group, even though I was still an atheist. The climax of the camp was recitation of the Prologue from John’s gospel at a church. I still remember the first line of it in Swedish, but at that time, it was meaningless to me. I didn’t even believe in God and certainly was not aware of Him working in my life – but He was absolutely working behind the scenes and I was being helped on many occasions, some of which I can see retrospectively, and some I may never know about in this life. One highlight of the camp was receiving a lovely letter from my teacher Ingela – I had sent her a postcard and she kindly responded. Slowly, this was the start of a growing out-of-school relationship, including babysitting her then two-year-old son Anders.
The following summer, I was offered a job at one of my dad’s colleague’s shop. I forgot what it involved, but I enjoyed the opportunity. However, I am not sure how pleased he was with me as he gave me few instructions and I showed little initiative when not specifically told what to do, and just sat and read a book. While there, I met a Russian customer, and despite four or five years of learning Russian at school inn Czechoslovakia, I didn’t understand a word he said!
One of the two summers that we lived in Sweden – 1967 – the family visited Italy as a part of a tour package. We saw Rome, Pompei, and the island of Capri, including the villa of the famous Swedish doctor and psychiatrist, Axel Munthe (1857-1949), best known as the author of The Story of San Michele, an autobiographical account of his life and work. His philanthropic nature often led him to treat the poor without charge, and he risked his life on several occasions to offer medical help in times of war, disaster, or plague. As an advocate of animal rights, he purchased land to create a bird sanctuary near his home in Italy, argued for bans on painful traps, and kept pets as diverse as an owl and a baboon, as well as many dogs. His writing is light-hearted, being primarily memoirs drawn from his experiences, but it is often tinged with sadness or tragedy. My parents had a Czech translation of this book, entitled in Czech Book about Life and Death, which at that time really spoke to me, and I even wrote an essay about it in school.
Another experience that stands out was a 3-hour ferry trip to Frederikshavn in Denmark with a girl friend from school, Ingrid. Her mother was supposed to accompany us, and under that condition, my parents allowed me to go. On the day of the outing, it turned out that Ingrid’s mother was not coming, but we went regardless. All went well and we enjoyed the boat ride and did some sightseeing in the town before going back. I never told my parents we went unsupervised – I may have even told a white lie that Ingrid’s mother came with us.
During the years in Sweden, I was overall happy and enjoyed quite a few freedoms. When my parents made plans to move to Australia, they didn’t at all ask for my views or feelings. I wasn’t keen on the idea of another major move and starting all over again with a new school environment, another language, culture, etc. It was hard enough to make the adjustment to Sweden and mastering the language enough to be functional.
The reality however was that foreigners were not particularly welcome in Sweden, my family was not eligible for political asylum, and obtaining citizenship was not possible before seven years of residence – too far in future. So having stayed out of Czechoslovakia illegally, my parents felt unsafe to remain in Sweden.
Dad learned about and applied for an oboe position in the Melbourne Symphony Orchestra. He sent a tape recording by mail and was accepted. In the meantime, my parents asked my maternal grandmother who had lived in the same house to send books from our bookshelf – which my father kept all his life. They were donated to the Brisbane Czechoslovakian Club upon his passing in 2022.
Because of fear under the then political situation, my parents always remained non-committal as far as us not returning to Czechoslovakia and never sent a family photo that my grandmother kept asking for in every letter.
Finally, at the end of 1967, the time came to move. Everything, including furniture, was packed into a container to be shipped to Australia, as from my parents’ research it would have been cheaper than buying everything there. My father still had some of it when he passed away, like the kitchen chairs and table and some dishes and dining accessories.
The plan in leaving Sweden was to stop in London for a week of sightseeing. My parents were scared to tell people we were going to Australia, so the official, partially true, story was that we were going to London. It just shows the terrible fear and distrust in a restrictive totalitarian society and its results!
Sweden was the first, but not the last country of what was going to become an international life for me. God was working behind the scenes, at this time still unbeknown to me, despite becoming confirmed and receiving a Swedish Bible. He simply wasn’t a part of my life yet and I am not sure I even believed in His existence at this point.
For other information on divine leading, see Spirit Helpers and Guides
Here is a short reflection on being divinely led.