A South African couple relocated to rural Bohemia. 24 years later, this Czech village is where home is

Due to the rampant crime and corruption in our homeland, the decision of my husband and I (aged 67 and 57 respectively at the time) to relocate to the Czech Republic in 2002 was a life-changing one.

We had previously visited this country only as tourists, having good friends here who had emigrated from South Africa. When in transit by train from Vienna to České Budějovice, we instantly fell in love with South Bohemia. "If ever we leave South Africa, this is where I would like to live!", my husband said at the time.

His words proved prophetic, as we finally chose the village of Buková, near the Austrian border, to be our new home. Knowing only two people in this country and without knowing a single word of Czech, this was a daunting undertaking - possibly brave, too, but also undeniably foolish. So was the change of career for both of us, at an age when most people are contemplating quiet retirement.

In South Africa, Ian was a medical doctor, and I was a radiographer. We realised that the language barrier would not allow us to work in the medical field in our adopted country and that teaching English was our only option. My husband had his medical degree and I had a Bachelor's degree in English and Linguistics so, before emigrating, we attended a TEFL course.

Having mastered German and French without too much difficulty in the past, I naively thought I would be fluent in Czech in a matter of months. I couldn’t have been more wrong.

The chief shock was the difficulty of the Czech language. Merely being "native speakers" resulted in us being in great demand as TEFL teachers. All our students wanted to learn to speak English, or to improve their school-taught language skills.

At home, we had each other to converse with, Sky News and CNN in English, so unfortunately were not immersed in the Czech language. I worked in a private language school in České Budějovice and Ian, after freelancing at various language schools, obtained a permanent job at the University of South Bohemia in the English department.

On the upside of the culture shock scale, we experienced what life was like in a safe and secure country. In South Africa, every door and window are covered in burglar bars, and homes are surrounded by high fences with razor wire and have alarm systems connected to private security firms.

The police are virtually ineffective, dealing with a multitude of major crimes (an average of 60 murders per day, for example), and thus are not bothered with burglaries and other "minor" offenses. Even in the daylight – and definitely not after dark – it is not safe to walk alone on a beach or in any secluded place like a forest.

We were thrilled to be able to venture safely into the beautiful South Bohemian countryside, on foot and by bike, without fear of being mugged or murdered – very real likelihoods back home. Children here are free to walk or travel alone by bus to school, even from a very young age. This is unheard of in South Africa, where parents have to transport kids to and from school and to outside activities.

Getting used to the change in climate from Africa was another challenge. We were used to two seasons – summer/winter, hot/cool – with temperatures never lower than 15 C in winter in our hometown on the Indian ocean. Snow was a brand new phenomenon. We did not even own winter coats, so certainly had to replenish our wardrobes. I found – and still find – the changing four seasons an eternal wonder.

Here each season is distinctly different and uniquely beautiful. I will never tire of the splendor of the winter wonderland and the view of a beautiful rybnik and the Novohradské hory from my study window. However, driving in snowy conditions was a whole new experience. The drive was 30 km to and from our workplaces in České Budějovice, the nearest city, so we soon realized that a four-wheel drive car was essential to negotiate the country roads.

Relocating to any country is not for the weak, relocating to one where we're unable to speak the language is doubly difficult. My basic German helped slightly in the bureaucratic nightmare of being a foreigner. When we arrived, things were very different from what they are today. Very little, if any, English was spoken in small towns and villages.

We had to battle the nightmare of legalities such as visas, taxes, driving licenses, purchasing furniture and appliances for our new home. We coped with the help of our expat friends, and with the assistance and advice of acquaintances we gradually made. The Expats.cz website was – and remains – an invaluable resource.

As foreigners "from Africa to Buková", we were regarded as something of local curiosities. Often the same question was asked: "What made you come to this country?" We found the Czechs very modest and unaware of the positive qualities of life here. It was hard to explain the realities of living in the crime-ridden, corrupt and inefficient country we had come from.

Although teaching had never been our first career choices, nor had we any experience in it, this proved a huge plus in making friends and learning about the Czech culture and lifestyle. Czechs are shy and it takes time to get to know their sterling qualities.

When I was widowed in 2013, I really learned the true meaning of what we know as "Christian charity" in action. My neighbor, who spoke only Russian and Czech, plied me with hot meals every day and came to tend to my garden, which she called a džungle.

Other locals brought me condolences, flowers and food. Another student helped me with the nightmare of legalities one has to undergo when a spouse passes away. Without all these kind Samaritans, I would not have coped with the loss of my husband.

Being in the Czech Republic also enabled me to carry on living alone in our home in the countryside, something which would have been impossible in Africa, where, as a widow, I would have been forced to move to a "secure" retirement home.

Our Labrador and cat had emigrated with us from Africa. Sadly, both left us at the ages of 16 and 18 respectively. We felt their absence keenly in our suddenly pet-less home.

A few months after their passing, one evening, to our utter amazement, we found a young feral cat purring on our bed. She was the spitting image of our dear departed KitKat – also a tortoiseshell. That is how we were adopted by Katka, now my sole companion and great solace.

In 2017, having lived and worked here for 15 years, I applied and was granted Czech citizenship. Being over the age of 65 exempted me from the compulsory Czech language exam – although I would have welcomed the opportunity to study Czech properly at last.

At a moving naturalization ceremony, I was granted citizenship, praised and thanked by the officiating Regional Director for "advancing the knowledge of English language." The ceremony was enhanced by professional musicians, where I heard the beautiful 'Kde domov můj' for the first time. I was officially a Czech who could not speak Czech.

I am still not able to speak Czech but manage to get along with a multitude of useful phrases and words. Life has changed dramatically in this country in the past decades. English is now taught from pre-school age and everybody under the age of 30 can speak it. Most signs, official notices and information, etc. are in both languages.

At last, I know the answer to kde domov můj? - this is, indeed, my home.