“Kia ora e te whānau, ko Mohi tōku ingoa.” Ka mihi māhorahora a Mohi Allen (e mōhiotia nei ko MOHI). He uri ia nō Ngāi Te Rangi, nō Ngāti Kahungunu ki Te Wairoa, ā, e whakahīhī ana hoki ia i tōna hononga ki ngā iwi o te Tai Tokerau. I whakapakeketia ia ki Te Uru o Tāmaki, ā, ko te tūāpapa o tōna tuakiri me ana waiata, ko tōna whakapapa tonu.
“Kia ora e te whānau, ko Mohi tōku ingoa.” Mohi Allen (aka MOHI) introduces himself with ease and warmth. He is Ngāi Te Rangi, Ngāti Kahungunu ki Te Wairoa, and proudly connected to the people of Te Tai Tokerau. Raised in West Auckland, his identity — and his music — remain grounded in his whakapapa (lineage).
Ko ngā wawata o Allen kei te anamata o tēnei mea te Whakapuaki i te Taketaketanga. E pohewa ana ia "i tētahi ao e kore nei te Māori me ngā iwi taketake e tāmia. He ao e whai toronga ai tātou katoa ki ō tātou reo, ki ō tātou ahurea, ki ō tātou whenua, ki ā tātou taonga, ā, ki ā tātou waiata." He ao e kore nei te reo Māori me te puoro Māori e kīia he mea rerekē, he kāinga rua rānei — kāore e waiho noa mō Te Wiki o te Reo Māori, e whakatakotoria rānei ki tētahi rārangi waiata rerekē — engari hei oro o ia rā o Aotearoa.
For Allen, his hopes are for the future of Indigenous expression. He imagines “a world where Māori and Indigenous peoples are no longer oppressed, where we all have access to our language, our culture, our land, our taonga (treasures), our music.” It’s a world where Te Reo Māori and Māori music aren’t framed as niche or alternative — not tucked away for Māori Language Week or put in a separate playlist — but as the everyday soundtrack of Aotearoa.
Ko tana kaupapa hou, The Flowers That Grow From Concrete Pavements, he tohu nō ōna pakiaka, nō te whenua i tipu ai ia. "E ahu mai ana i taku ao whakatipu, te wāhi me ngā tāngata i pakeke mai ai ahau — ko ērā kua riro ki te ao wairua, me ērā kei te ao kikokiko tonu nei." E mōhio ana a Allen he uaua te noho whakaraerae — engari ka whirinaki tonu ia ki taua āhua. Nōna ka whakatuwhera i te tatau ki ōna wheako, ka kite hoki ētahi atu i a rātou anō. "Mā taku noho whakaraerae, me taku waiata mai i te ngākau… e whai wāhi ai te tangata ki te whakapuaki i a rātou anō, kia iti ai te noho mokemoke i ngā āhuatanga o ō rātou ao." Koinā te āhuatanga e tino kaingākau ana ia i roto i āna mahi— ko te āhei o tōna haerenga ki te whakakaha i tētahi atu.
His latest project, The Flowers That Grow From Concrete Pavements, is a testament to his roots. “It’s based on my upbringing, the place and the people who raised me, those passed on now, and those still here.” Allen knows vulnerability isn’t always comfortable — but he leans into it anyway. Because when he cracks the door open on his experiences, others see themselves in that light too. “Me being vulnerable and writing music from the heart… gives people the space to be open, to feel less alone in whatever they’re experiencing in their lives.” It’s what he loves most about his mahi (work) — that a piece of his own story can quietly become strength for someone else.
Ko tētahi tauira pai o te kōrero pūrākau kei tana waiata, kei Ka Rea me Pare, i ahu mai i ngā kōrero tuku iho. Ko tētahi o ngā rerenga o te waiata, e mea ana: “Tūngia te ururua, kia tupu whakaritorito te tupu o te harakeke.” E kī ana ia, “Ko te kaupapa o te waiata nei he tuku, he whakawātea, kia tau mai ai te rongoā me te rangimārie ki roto i a koe.” I titoa e ia taua waiata i a ia e noho ana i te kāinga, i Panguru — e karapotia ana e te mārie me te āio o te whenua. Hei tāna, “Nōu e noho tāone ana, he uaua te rongo tonu i te hononga.” “Ka tino tau taku wairua nōku ka hoki ki te kāinga, ki te Raki, ki taku kāinga tupu.” Ko taua āhua o te tau me te mārie kua whatua ki roto i ngā kupu o te waiata — e hono ana i te waiata ki te whenua, ki te whakaoranga, me te whakapapa.
A powerful example of that storytelling sits inside his waiata (song) Ka Rea ft Pare, inspired by kōrero tuku iho (ancestral knowledge passed down through generations). A lyric from the song is: “Tūngia te ururua, kia tupu whakaritorito te tupu o te harakeke — clear away the overgrowth so that the new flax shoots may flourish.” The waiata, he says, “is all about letting go and allowing for healing and peace to flow through you.” He wrote it when he was back home in Panguru, surrounded by the feeling of peace and calm the whenua (land) brought him. “Living in the city, [staying connected] can be difficult,” he says. “I feel most grounded when I head home to the North, being back in the kāinga (home).” That grounding weaves itself through the kupu (lyrics), connecting the song back to place, healing, and lineage.
E ai ki a Allen, ehara te waiata i te waiata noa iho — engari kē ia ko tana ara hei whakahoki hua ki tōna iwi. “Ko te mana, tērā e mōhiotia nei e au, ā, e kawea nei e au mā roto i te waiata, he mea e hono tonu ana ki te manaaki.” Ko taua whakapono te pūtake o ana mahi: te tito waiata hei hāpai i te iwi, te whakatō i te haumarutanga i te wā o te noho whakaraerae, ā, te whakamahara hoki i te Māori he hua kei roto i ā rātou kōrero. Ka pupuri tonu ia ki ngā kupu i ako ai ia i tōna tamarikitanga — “Ko te tohu o te rangatira he manaaki.” Hei tāna anō, “Nā konā ka kitea te mana o te tangata.” I ēnei rā nei, e mea ana a Allen, kāore i te tika ngā ārahitanga: “E hōhā ana au i tō tātou kāwanatanga kaikiri o nāianei, me tā rātou takahi i ngā motika Māori.” Mōna, ko te tino rangatiratanga tūturu, ko te tiaki me te whakamana — kaua ko te mana e whakamahia ana hei whakangū i te tangata.
For Allen, music is never just music — it’s his way of giving back to his people. “Mana, as I’ve known it and with what I do through music, is always linked to manaaki (care).” That belief sits at the centre of his artistry: writing songs that uplift communities, create safety in vulnerability, and remind Māori that their stories are worthy. He holds close the words he was taught as a youngster — “Ko te tohu o te rangatira he manaaki — the sign of a leader is how he cares for his people.” As he adds, “Nā kona ka kite i te mana o te tangata — that’s where you see the true mana of a person.” And today’s leadership often falls short: “I’m frustrated by our current racist government and the way they are undermining Māori rights.” For Allen, real leadership looks like protection and empowerment — not power used to silence.
Mō tātou te hunga ko tō tātou āhua noho ka ū ki te whakapapa me te tuakiri ā-ahurea, ehara te whakarere tōrangapū i te āhuatanga tūrehurehu - e tino pērā ana i te wāhi ki a Allen. "Ko tōku Māoritanga te mea kotahi e mōhio nei au. Koinei te āhua o taku titiro me taku mārama ki te ao." Ahakoa kei te waihanga puoro i te taupuni hopuoro, kei te tū rānei ki te atamira i tāwāhi, kei te kāuta rānei i tōna marae, "Ka uru mai hoki tōku Māoritanga me tōku Tokerautanga ki aua wāhi. He rite tonu taku pīrangi ki te whakakanohi i ahau anō, i ōku iwi, i tōku ahunga mai, ahakoa kei hea rā ahau," tāna i kī ai. "He rawe ki ahau ōku toto Māori."
For those of us whose way of life is shaped by whakapapa and cultural identity, political dismissal is never abstract — especially in Allen’s case. “Being Māori is all I know. It’s the way I see and make sense of the world.” Whether he’s creating music in the studio, performing on stage overseas, or in the kāuta (kitchen space) at his marae, “My Māoritanga (Māori identity), my Tokerautanga (Northern identity) enters those spaces too. I always want to represent who I am, my people, where I come from, no matter where I am,” he explains. “I love being Māori.”
Ko te waiata te wāhi e hoki ai ia. “Ki ahau, he rongoā te waiata,” tāna i kī ai. “He tino pai ki ahau taku mahi. He tangata noho puku au, engari mā te tuhi waiata e āhei ai ahau ki te whakapuaki i ōku whakaaro, i ōku wheako, me ngā mea nui ki ahau, ki te ao whānui.”
Music is the place he returns to. “For me, music is such a healer,” he says. “I love what I do. I’ve always been a bit of an introvert, but writing songs is a way that helps me share my thoughts, experiences, and things that are important to me with the world.”
E ai ki a Allen, kei tua noa atu te waiata i tētahi mea whakangahau noa iho. He waka whakaora, he whakanui whakapapa, ā, he ara hoki hei kawe whakamua i ngā kōrero — mai i ngā ara raima o Tāmaki ki ngā whenua o Panguru, ā, ki tua atu.
For Allen, music will always be more than entertainment. It is a vessel for healing — a celebration of whakapapa and a way of carrying stories forward, from the concrete pavements of West Auckland to the whenua of Panguru, and far beyond.
