I haven’t heard the description ‘shelia’ applied to females since I was a kid and even then it was very specific applied by my shearing gang relations to rousees. So, with a show titled Who Dat Shelia? I’m expecting that straight-up kind of roughneck talk. Of course I’m wrong.   Who Dat Shelia? is a play on the TV series I know a Shelia like that, that screened on Maori Television last year profiling wāhine Māori of which Parekotuku Moore was one. 

When the Sheila, aka Parekotuku Moore, comes on stage it doesn’t take me long to figure out I am witnessing the antithesis to shearing shed banter. For one thing there’s the voice: beautiful, lulling waves caressing a shoreline doesn’t do it justice.  Seriously, she has a criminally lovely sounding voice.  Cue bluebirds singing.

Then there’s her overall gorgeousness which – combined with the nerves, that don’t really ease until three quarters of the way through her set – makes her very endearing. 

This is a woman who knows her audience but better yet, and refreshingly, knows herself.  We are observing Parekotuku Moore. Period.  It’s very comforting and familiar.  It’s like hanging out with a diva in the airport lounge, the whānau at the Pa or the bros leaning on a shovel.  Yet it’s not exclusive.  As she says, “Pākehā, it’s ok you can laugh too!” And they do.  Heartily. 

With a first name like Parekotuku, of course you’re going to incorporate its variations, and hilarious/cringe mis-pronunciations into your comedic routine. I look around, every Māori in the audience is nodding in agreement at some of the scenarios. 

With a smiling delivery and general big heartedness, ditto medical procedures and other life-changing events. It’s in setting a scene and telling a story that Moore hits her stride.  This is obviously what she is comfortable with and she’s good at it. Kapa Haka envy, first kisses, gardening, housie … they all get a mention. But it’s the all faithful, never far from the surface, inter-Iwi competitiveness that gets the whoops and the crowd going.  Ruatāhuna kakahu mauku all the way, yo.

When it ends I realise I don’t want it to stop as she’s just starting to relax into it and is hitting her mark. I’m not the only one.  People linger even when “I’m every woman” by Whitney Houston comes over the speakers, which I’ve got to say is very appropriate.  Parekotuku Moore.  She’s a class act. 

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