Reluctant radical

Edward Rooney shares miso soup, sushi and a conversation with our Guest Editor.
Sitting at lunch in Sumo Sushi cafe on Albert St, the dimly lit wooden interior accentuates the planes of her face. Fine features frame deep brown eyes as she outlines her take on the time of year called Matariki.
"It's really only come to my consciousness in the last 10 years or so, to be honest," Hinewehi Mohi says.
"When I think of the old people, I think mainly about how it's the coldest part of the year. It's kind of like a hibernation time, bunking in and sharing time together.
"That's how I think the entertainment and festivities came about, with people shut up together behind closed doors. It's a time to share knowledge and talk about the people who had passed on."
I watch her break sushi with chopsticks, eating each roll piece by piece. I feel boorish in comparison, having clamped a whole roll between wooden sticks and front-end loaded the entire slab into my mouth.
"I imagine our ancestors would have been quite physical in their day-to-day activities," she says, waving her chopsticks, "with all the work that would have needed to be done.
"But this time is when the harvests are in and food is being dried and prepared for storage. Now is the time they can stop and sit down and that's where the notion of festivities and coming together came into it. And that's something I quite like," she laughs a deep, infectious cackle.
Here, she mentions for the first of several times her upcoming Tiramarama concert (details opposite), years of having to push gigs have honed her experience.
She watches and waits for me to write the details down - the artist's practice of self-preservation by self-promotion. I feel like reminding her she is the guest editor, she can order me to write it into the story, but I wait and ask what Matariki might become in the future.
"I think it should be a thanksgiving time, a chance to stop and take stock of family and what's important."
As an example, Hinewehi talks about a songwriting workshop she led recently for 12- to 19-year-olds. "I asked a young woman of Filipino descent, though I think she was a Kiwi, what Matariki means and she said it is about family and coming together."
Hinewehi visibly brightens as she says this, and continues: "We can make it whatever we want it to be. It can bring all the cultures of the world together. The Matariki constellation is seen everywhere in the world."
As she talks about a celebration we can be proud of, her head tilts slightly, neck lengthens and her face beams. Beautiful, staunch, a picture-perfect proud.
"We can use this festival as our own," she affirms. "We've hijacked other people's ones, like St Patrick's and Halloween, and we get excited and enjoy those.
"This can be not just about being Maori, but sharing Maori."
Hinewehi recounts experiences of people who attended an event she helped organise last year, a giant, gourmet-style hangi at Ngaruawahia. "A lot of people had never been on a marae before and that is what really excited them. We do forget to share some of these things sometimes."
This descendant of Ngati Kahungunu and Tuhoe has been unwittingly stuck with the role of talking about things Maori since making a spot decision on the world stage 14 years ago, but we'll get to that incident shortly.
First, I quiz her about what she loves and dislikes about Auckland and Hinewehi sips her miso soup then speaks only of the former.
She echoes Mayor Len Brown's calls for Auckland to become a destination for tourists rather than a gateway for visitors to board buses to Rotorua. I laughingly tell her, as she's a former student of St Joseph's Maori Girls' College, the Rotorua Daily Post will be in touch to accuse her of betraying her home province.
We start to talk about her work in music and she again tells me about the Tiramarama concert and the combination of traditional and contemporary music that will share the Aotea Centre stage. "It's all about carving a new way, a unique sound."
I take my cue to ask her about the time she caused outrage by singing the New Zealand
anthem exclusively in Maori before a 1997 Rugby World Cup game at Twickenham. She chuckles self-consciously as I finish the question, mumbling to the table that she can't believe I'm bringing it up.
"The best way I can describe it,'' she says, tracing a spiral with her finger on the wooden table, "is, I'm glad there's been a cultural change since then and both languages are now sung.''
Is that what she'd hoped for? "Perhaps there was a naivete that allowed me to take that Maori version to the stage. I'm not very good at confrontation. I was very much a reluctant radical.''
With the benefit of time elapsed, she seems relaxed, but I suspect the reaction at the time really hurt. "It did say some things about where we were at, at that time. There will be some people who will still disagree with singing the Maori version, but I believe it's all turned out for the better.''
She frowns at the table again, then looks up as her glow returns. "Kids love singing it,'' she says, triumphantly. "They aren't at all fazed by it.''
Talk of kids brings Hinewehi into full starry-eyed joy. "I just hope our kids are inspired
by how much we have grown as a nation,'' she says, probably referring again to the reaction in 1997.
Most of New Zealand does seem to have picked up her lead. Hinewehi was awarded the
New Zealand Order of Merit in 2008, for services to Maori. But her mention of children is
a chance to move onto the subject of her enduring passion and legacy, the Raukatauri
Music Therapy Centre.
Hinewehi and her family set up the trust after taking daughter Hineraukatauri, who has cerebral palsy, to the Nordoff-Robbins centre in London in 1999. The Auckland centre opened in Sandringham in 2004 and moved to larger rooms in Newton in 2005. It hosts 110 children each week and its staff visit schools across Auckland.
It emphasises improvisation and creative techniques to develop communication skills in
physically and intellectually disabled children. Through different instruments, tone and pitch, people can respond and communicate how they are feeling.
Hinewehi says the trust struggled through 2009 but appears solid with a strong board and direction. "We're desperate to have these 110 children continue through music therapy. My family and I know how important it is for our daughter.''
I ask how Hineraukatauri is doing and her mum squeals with happiness. "We all melt around her. She's real serenity. She'll be 15 when this story comes out. She turns
15 on May 25.''
With husband George Bradfield, Hinewehi has a blended family of five. She admits a disabled daughter adds to the challenges of home life,  "...nah but, it's all good in the 'hood''. She says other families at the trust keep her humble.
"It's an extraordinary challenge to have a member of the family that has a disability. It's
something that is not always well funded. People are struggling - emotionally, financially and physically.''
I sense she feels the troubles of others but is more likely to sing about better things than shout about negatives: less the revolutionary, more the cultural evolutionary.
Recently, she was emailed by a New York taxi driver who wanted to pass on how much he still enjoys her breakthrough 1999 album Oceania. He plays it in the cab and passengers frequently mention how good it makes them feel, though none of them knows what the te reo lyrics say.
We trade anecdotes about the perils and pearls of life with children, and I again steer the conversation back to music and how it can communicate for us. I'm getting hooked on seeing her talk in raptures. Hinewehi picks up my lead and runs with it.
"I just marvel at the work the music therapistsare doing,'' she says. "I'm not even exaggerating, it's that profound. I'm holding back my gushiness, words fail me.''
Her open-mouthed expression of awe and excitement seems to light up the room around our table.
Happy New Year, everyone. Or should I say, Matariki Pai.
In concert
Tiramarama, June 24, Aotea Centre, featuring the Auckland Chamber Orchestra, Stan Walker, Adeaze, Ardijah and many others. Full Matariki programme: www.theaucklander.co.nz or www.matarikifestival.org.nz