A Sudetenlander and proud of it, Anny Stecker was born a subject of the Austro-Hungarian empire, and became a citizen of Czechoslovakia on the creation of the new state after the Great War. In 1939, when her country was invaded, her status was changed again as an unwilling subject of the greater German Reich. After the second World War, as a refugee in Paris, she carried papers as a stateless alien, before leaving the war-torn continent to recover her fortune as a naturalised citizen of Venezuela.
With her husband, Rudolph, who predeceased her, she read Heinrich Boll's vision of a romantic Ireland, "so quiet that the heart stood still". With joyful expectation, the Steckers recrossed two oceans to settle in their land of heart's desire.
As garda sergeant in Roundwood, Co Wicklow 40 years ago, I interviewed the Steckers on their arrival from South America.
Born in Marienbad close on 90 years ago with collateral Jewish blood in her ancestry, Anny sought the relative anonymity of Gablonz, where she married Rudolph. Together they set up in business as exporters in the costume jewellery industry.
Separated when Rudolph was conscripted into the German army, they made contingency plans to escape to the West at the end of the war. Their worst fears were realised as the Russians advanced to occupy Gablonz under the Potsdam agreement.
All their savings having been lost, Anny now abandoned house and home. As she was leaving, throwing some small keepsakes into a haversack, she turned back to take down an ancient crucifix, a damaged plaster figure on decaying wood. This family heirloom became for the remainder of her life a metaphor for suffering humanity.
With no knowledge of Rudolph's whereabouts, the young woman joined the floodtide of refugees. They had agreed to meet at any of a number of towns along the way. Miraculously, they were reunited.
As Anny admitted, they were more fortunate than many of their neighbours - she had concealed in a small bag around her neck some jewellery from their stock-in-trade. With her generous nature, she was bound to have shared their little wealth, but there was never a word of this. The last piece had been cashed by the time they reached Paris. With the same foresight, Anny had dispatched a crate of similar jewellery to a trusted client in the French capital. The cache provided the means of survival until they were ready to travel on to their planned destination. With the last diamond ring they bought their fares, and arrived in Venezuela penniless.
In Caracas, they found employment in the hotel business, Anny as a cook. Later, as agents for Kodak, they were well placed to accept Heinrich Boll's invitation to visit Ireland where, 40 years ago, time was still "on holiday."
Captivated, the Steckers decided to stay, in due course changing their passports to become naturalised Irish citizens. As sheep farmers in Knockraheen, overlooking the Vartry reservoir, they found peace at last; later, they turned to poultry rearing.
Reading Irish history as a self-imposed qualification for citizenship, the Sudetenlander in Anny was indignant at the injustices visited by 19th century landlords on tenants with no fixity of tenure. When it was time to retire, she felt duty-bound to ensure that the farm was returned to native Irish ownership.
In her childless widowhood, she lived out her declining years serenely in the comfortable old farmhouse. A very private soul, the epitome of gracious good manners, she gazed on the world with a tolerance tempered by adversity. She spoke with exemplary charity of old enemies; in her neighbourly relations, she won the affection of the Roundwood community.
Calling at Knockraheen at the turn of the new century, longing to record her wartime odyssey, I asked forgiveness for stirring painful memories. I am glad that, with so little time left, I found her with the heart to talk about her experiences.
Anny Stecker lies with her beloved Rudolph beneath an Irish sky. From the high ground of the new Roundwood cemetery, on the back road to Derralossery, you can see across the quiet Avonmore valley to the slope of Scarrd mountain where, in the mind's ear, you can hear the larks ascending in their heaven.