Hayley Westenra

by Hayley Westenra

  The really big stars I've worked with – people such as Jose Carreras and Bryn Terfel – are such warm and friendly people all of the time. Most of the people at the top are fundamentally nice. They've realised that to get to the top and stay there they have to behave in a way that is respectful to those working around them. Nobody does themselves any favours by being nasty. Mind you, I've been told on many occasions, 'Sometimes, it's good to be a bit of a diva, because you gain more respect.' I'm not certain that this is true, though, because I'm sure that people just find ways of working around a demanding artist, rather than working with them. I would hate for that ever to happen to me.

  I do have a rider when I'm on tour – this is a list of demands that are part of the contract my management signs with the promoter of each concert that I do. Virtually every singer has some sort of rider and some of them can be extraordinarily excessive and prescriptive, forcing the promoter to jump through all sort of hoops just to keep the artist happy. Rock bands can be particularly demanding, but I reckon most of them do it just to see how far they can push the boundaries of what is acceptable.

  My rider is an altogether more simple affair. I always ask for some bottles of room-temperature water. This is common to most singers, because chilled water affects the vocal cords. Then, I ask for a selection of fresh fruit, crudities, dips and crackers. Finally, I request a can of wild salmon and an avocado. I also stipulate that I need a can opener in the contract, because you have no idea how many times I've been unable to get at the salmon that has been provided for me, because nobody left a can opener behind. I never ask for alcohol because I never drink alcohol when I'm performing. My one luxury is that I ask for all the fruit and vegetables to be organic if possible. I also like things to be left in the packets, so that I know that they really are fresh and organic. And that's it! I'm sure that the backstage people in some concert halls think I'm odd because I ask for so little.

  I have to admit that I'm a bit strange when it comes to my eating habits. I try to make a real effort to stay healthy because I'm always travelling. One of my vices however is Green & Black's organic dark chocolate. Somehow, my biggest fans have found this out and I usually end up with a few bars of chocolate after every concert. I tend to share it with the rest of the team in the van on the way back home.

  After the final night of the American tour, Il Divo headed off to Australia and, unfortunately, I was unable to go with them, because I was committed to performing a few concerts of my own in America. In some ways, it was a little disappointing, because Australia is almost (but not quite) home territory for me and it would have been great to have appeared there with the boys, because my Aussie friends always give me such a great reception whenever I perform there.

  After my concerts in America, I needed to head straight back to rejoin Il Divo for the European leg of the tour. We were heading for Dublin, but our first flight from Florida had been delayed for about three hours, so we missed our connecting flight. It meant that my tour manager Ali and I ended up somewhere in the middle of America, trying to find a way to Dublin in time for the concert. Even if our travel plans had gone like clockwork, we were already cutting it fine, but the added delays meant that there was a real risk of my not making the concert at all. That would have meant letting too many people down, so we had to get there at all costs.

  As we looked up at the indicator boards at the airport, we realised that more and more flights were being cancelled because of bad weather. There were no direct flights to Dublin and we were given two options: either we could fly to Paris and pick up a connecting flight there, or else we could fly to London Heathrow and then pick up a plane to Dublin from London Gatwick. We chose the latter option and my management had a fast car waiting for us at the airport, which zoomed us across London.

  I sank into my seat on the final flight, safe in the knowledge that, so long as the plane touched down on time, I would just be able to make the arena in time for my performance. A man sitting near to me leaned across and politely asked, 'Excuse me, but you're not Hayley Westenra, are you?'

  'Yes, I am,' I answered.

  'You're doing a show tonight with Il Divo?'

  'Yep!' I said with a look of exasperation in my eyes. It turned out that my fellow passenger was also going along to the concert – although he was planning to watch it, rather than perform in it – and so he was arriving at the right time. I gave him a little shout out from the stage as I told the story of my travel nightmares to the audience later that night.

  We landed at the right time, in the right place and I was convinced that nothing else could possibly go wrong, since we had about three hours to spare before the show. Then, as I waited at the luggage carousel, I discovered that my bags had not made it to Dublin with me and were still somewhere back in London. I have Mum to thank for the fact that this was not the major catastrophe that at first it appeared to be. She constantly reminds me to take a dress and a pair of shoes with me in my hand luggage whenever I'm travelling to a show. Fortunately, on this occasion, I had heeded her advice. It meant that I had something to wear when I went on stage.

  I stopped off at the airport branch of Accessorize and bought myself some shiny jewellery that would sparkle under the lights while I was performing. When I arrived at the Point arena, Carol Wright, a lovely lady from my record label who had flown over to Dublin from London to oversee my European Il Divo tour debut, kindly rushed out to buy me some hairspray and I borrowed other bits and pieces from a variety of different people to enable me to go on stage still looking the part.

  I had time for only the briefest of soundchecks, which was a bit of a challenge, since on this leg of the tour I was singing different material to a backing track, rather than with a live band. It was a case of really being thrown in at the deep end – not only had I arrived late, but I was going on stage to a whole new setup.

  In the end, it all went smoothly and the audience would have been none the wiser had I not regaled them with tales of my intercontinental flight nightmare.

  Over the next few weeks, as we travelled around Europe, I got to know the Il Divo guys a little better. I no longer had my band with me, so I ended up mixing with their crew a little more. It was another all-male environment, other than me, the wardrobe lady, the hair and makeup lady and the monitor engineer. I quickly formed a bond with the sound guys that they used, who were nearly all Aussies. Usually, there's a healthy rivalry between Australians and New Zealanders, but, when we are in the northern hemisphere, we Antipodeans like to stick together.

  I found that one of the attractive elements of being on a long tour is that I was able to focus on the concerts every night, which allowed me to develop a real sense of momentum. On other occasions, I've a more sporadic set of concerts over a couple of months, which I juggle with other work such as press interviews, promotional appearances and recording. Both of these styles of concert-giving have their pluses and minuses. The big danger with a full-on tour is that you can be dragged down by just how far you have got to travel and the sheer number of concerts that you have ahead of you. I would hate to be counting down concerts to the end of a tour. You don't want to be in that mindset because it means that you are not enjoying every moment.

  On the positive side, with a big tour, you are performing virtually every night and you soon get into a routine. I found that this meant that I could experiment a little with the music, instead of worrying about other aspects of my performance, such as what I was going to say between tracks, for example. When I was younger, I used to mumble on stage, but now I enjoy developing my banter with the audience. I'm always on the lookout for a good joke. I have to admit that, when I come across a joke that is well received, I try to get my money's worth from it. It does make me worry for the handful of very loyal fans who come to more than one performance, but I always hope that they understand that a good joke is hard to find!

  One of the other highlights for me on Odyssey was 'Dell'amore Non Si Sa', the duet I recorded with Andr
ea Bocelli. I felt very privileged when he agreed to come on my album. In fact it was more than that: it was a huge personal thrill for me. I had been singing along to his albums for years. And then, suddenly to have his name on my album was like 'Wow!'

  Just after I finished touring with Il Divo, I was given the opportunity to perform with Andrea at some of his concerts. He has one of the most remarkable voices that I've ever heard and is a completely charming man. He was always very generous to me on stage. Singing with him was one of the most significant events of another busy year for me.

  CHAPTER 10

  BICYCLES FOR GHANA

  It was just after my first international album, Pure, had become a success that I was approached by Dennis McKinley, who headed UNICEF New Zealand, and asked whether I would be interested in becoming a Goodwill Ambassador for them. Usually this honour goes to people far, far older than I am, and I discovered that if I accepted I would be one of the youngest people to have taken up the role.

  Initially, I was a little reluctant to accept because I felt that it was a huge responsibility. I've always been adamant that I'll not simply become a 'face' that is associated with a large number of different charities, causes and campaigns, without actually doing anything of any significance to support them. If I was to take on a role like that, I really wanted to do my bit. I wondered whether I would have time to fit it into my hectic schedule of international travel. In the end, I came to the conclusion that it was such a fantastic organisation, performing such valuable work around the globe, that I would do everything I could to help them.

  UNICEF work primarily in the developing world, although they do have projects and programmes that are aimed at New Zealanders. I was particularly attracted to their work because of its focus on children and its relevance to people of my age. I hope that it might be good for the charity to have a young person flying the UNICEF flag. It's probably easier for someone in their late teens or early twenties to relate to the young people that UNICEF helps than it is for someone in their forties or fifties.

  Initially, I found it quite hard to promote their work because I didn't have first-hand experience of what they achieve. I was desperate to go on a field trip because I didn't feel that I could talk knowledgeably about the positive effects that a UNICEF programme can have on a community, having only watched the documentaries and read the brochures that everyone else had read. I wanted to feel that I had the authority to talk about UNICEF's work, so I was very excited when the opportunity arose for me to visit Ghana. As it turned out, I would end up playing a far more practical role in helping a group of people than I had ever expected.

  In total, I spent five days in Ghana: three days in Accra and two days in Tamale. Mum, Sophie, my manager Steve and I all flew out on a regular flight from London. The first thing that struck me when we got off the plane was that, even though we were in a city, it seemed quieter and more rural. It was also far, far hotter than it had been in London, even though we arrived in the dark, so we were unable to see much. Everything felt slightly more primitive than the world that we had left behind and the pace of life seemed slower. We were waved through passport control by the two guys sitting behind the desk – there certainly was no sign of the queues that I've become used to at London Heathrow.

  We were met by the son of the chairman of UNICEF in Ghana and some other members of the UNICEF team. We were driven to our hotel, which seemed to be a fairly standard, comfortable sort of place. It was frequented by the air crews while they were resting between flights and by foreign businesspeople in town for meetings. It didn't feel that different from many of the other hotels I've stayed in, although perhaps the rooms were a little more basic than we would have at home. At breakfast the next morning, the selection of food on offer was not quite as extensive as we might normally be used to.

  There was nothing about the look and feel of the hotel that would prepare us for what we would see later that day. We began the morning with a briefing from the UNICEF team, who filled us in on the situation in Ghana. The battle to eradicate polio was one of the major aims of the charity's presence in the country. Education was also a big issue there, with a particular imbalance when it came to the number of girls and boys who were attending school. It's a problem that is widespread in developing countries, because families don't see the need to educate their daughters, and this leads to a real inequality. As soon as I heard about the problem, I wondered whether there was something that I could do to help.

  We were driven from the hotel out through the city streets. It was by now even hotter than it had been the night before. The city was dusty and very dry; everywhere around us were people walking the streets carrying baskets filled with mangoes and plantain. I felt like a real foreigner because I'm very pale and not suited to that sort of climate at all. Our white Land Rover had 'UNICEF' painted in large letters along the side and, as we drove through the streets, we would always be greeted with warm smiles. The local children ran alongside as we drove, calling up and waving to us. It was easy to see the affection and respect that UNICEF generates on the ground because of its long history of successful programmes in Ghana.

  It made me start to think about the whole concept of being a 'celebrity' – and, in particular, the culture that surrounds celebrity in developed countries. Certainly, the kids whom I met in Ghana had no idea about fame; instead, they understood that UNICEF were a group of people who could unlock the door to their growing up with the prospect of a better future.

  The single most exciting thing for the children we met seemed to be the opportunity to have their photograph taken and then seeing themselves on the screen of the digital camera. As soon as they caught sight of themselves it gave them a real thrill. Steve still cherishes some video footage of a group of Ghanaian children jumping up and down and chanting 'Luton! Luton! Luton!' – the name of his beloved football team back home in England.

  Sophie brought over a selection of presents for the local children, including skipping ropes and pens, both of which caused a burst of huge excitement, and a soccer ball, which propelled the excitement level to a point of frenzy. It was amazing to see how such simple gifts were greeted with such enormous gratitude. We also handed out sunglasses, caps and toy cars. The kids got such a thrill out of each of these items, all of which were far less extravagant than the presents given to children in developed countries.

  We were accompanied on our trip by a journalist from the New Zealand Women's Weekly magazine and a film crew from a New Zealand programme called Close Up. They were documenting our travels. One of the first places we visited was the city slums. This was an eye-opening experience. People are living in appallingly grim conditions, forced to make homes for themselves out of corrugated-iron sheets, or any other materials that they can lay their hands on. There's no sanitation at all, so the stench was overpowering. The people living there look unhealthy and dirty. Some are dressed in torn rags; others wear clothes that have been sent over from the Western world. The logos and slogans emblazoned on their T-shirts seem completely at odds with the environment in which they find themselves.

  However, it's amazing how adaptable human beings can be. We met one lady who had her own home, which was nothing more than a shed. My instinctive first reaction was to pity her, but she greeted us with a smile. She was proud to show us her home. There were two television sets inside and this confused me. But it turned out that they didn't actually work and had been scavenged from other people's rubbish. For that particular woman, they were here possessions, her belongings, and, because of that, she was very proud of them

  I had a tremendous sense of guilt throughout the trip. As I was shown around, I felt that I wanted to make immediate changes.

  Wouldn't it be amazing to give this lady her own clean house that's not part of a slum? I thought to myself.

  I regretted not bringing with me something that could have made a difference, even if it were only some money to help provide her with the opportunity to take a step up the lad
der. But the problem comes as you spend more time in the country. Gradually, I met more and more people like her and the scale of the problem suddenly dawned on me. It became quite overwhelming and I found it a very emotional experience. I'm not ashamed to say that I shed a tear before I went to sleep that night, as much out of frustration at the size of the job that had to be done as a response to the individual sights I had seen and stories I had heard.

  As well as polio, the children there develop distension of the stomach, which is brought about by a lack of protein, I believe. Even so, the younger children still smile and chatter away. I found it truly amazing that they were brimming with energy and always appeared excited about life, despite their surroundings. Back in the developed would, many children simply don't realise how lucky they are. They can be grumpy and walk around with sour looks on their faces, but the young Ghanaian children were excited to be at school; they revelled in learning.

  As the Ghanaians became older, though, I think they gained a greater perspective on the tough realities that life would throw at them. I met many girls aged between fourteen and seventeen and it was easy to see that by this age they had already been hardened to the world by what they had seen and experienced. They seemed to have lost hope.

  The contrast between the younger children and the older teenagers was brought home to me on one particular day. First, we went to a school where we met a group of bright-eyed five-year-olds. They all carried their own chalkboards for writing on and they loved drawing in chalk on one another's face. They had a huge sense of optimism and they were keen and very affectionate. The whole classroom was filled with good-natured organised chaos.

  Then I met a group of girls who had been taken off the streets by UNICEF. All of the naive enthusiasm exhibited by the five-year-olds had by now completely evaporated. UNICEF specifically set up a school to encourage the girls to become engaged with the education system. Many of these girls came into the big city from the rural areas in the hope of earning more money for their families. There's a steady stream of them, who believe that they will be able to discover work in the city, but instead they find themselves open to attack and abuse.