Mairéad Ní Mhaonaigh: What scares me most in life is not being understood

Mairéad Ní Mhaonaigh joins other leading Irish women fiddlers from Sí Fiddlers performing on the rooftop of Central Bank Plaza to mark the launch of TradFest Temple Bar 2023, which will run from 25-29 January. Picture: Mark Stedman

I was born in Gaoth Dobhair in northwest Co Donegal. My parents were Francie Mooney and Kitty Rua; we call her that because she has red hair. I had a very happy childhood playing music and my father wrote plays . Music and the arts were a big part of growing up. I thought every house was reared like that but I realised later on that I was very privileged.

My earliest memory is standing in my cot, my mother and father cajoling me to sing. It’s such a vivid memory. I would sing away at that age, I’m told.

I think everyone is born to be the person they are. Music was a huge part of my life and has helped me through a lot of hardships as well as joy. It becomes a language that people use to express themselves when words aren’t enough.

I married Frankie Kennedy, who was a Belfast flute player that I met when I was 15 years old here in Co Donegal. The two of us set up Altan and poor Frankie then passed away in 1994 with cancer, so I became a widow very young.

It was a feeling I’d never had before; sadness wasn’t even a good word for it. But the music helped me understand it. It delves deeper into the psyche and helps us understand ourselves; we get solace from it.

The greatest challenge I faced was Frankie’s passing and the period when he was very sick in the Royal Victoria Hospital in Belfast. He just went through so much. All these things mould you into the person you are but it also made me recognise how volatile life is and how it can change overnight.

A few years after Frankie died, I married one of the band members, Dermot Byrne and had a child called Nia. We have since separated but Nia is my proudest achievement. She’s the joy of my life. A strong young woman who is far more independent at 19 than I was at that age.

I have good patience because I was a teacher. I was teaching junior infants to sixth class at St Oliver Plunkett’s school in Malahide, which was a beautiful school. Now when I travel the world, I meet a lot of my past pupils. It’s always a lovely surprise when I’m playing somewhere, Tokyo or Seattle or Sydney and somebody comes up and says, “you taught me in junior infants”, it’s like another life comes back to you.

I have a fantastic friend Édaín O’Donnell who’s an artist. She lives in Clonakilty and I’ve burned the ear off her quite a few times with all my woes and joys. She’s one of my most favourite people, as well as my mother, who now has dementia.

Mairéad Ní Mhaonaigh: I would like to be remembered as a good person and as a musician. Picture: Mark Stedman

The life lesson I would like to pass on is to live in the moment. I know it’s cliché but I realise it more than ever now. My sister is going through cancer at the moment but she’s feeling great. So I look at that as her taking control of it. Let’s not anticipate what’s going to happen because nobody knows what’s going to happen tomorrow.

The greatest advice I have ever been given is not to be too eager to please others. You have to start with yourself to love another person properly.

Your own sovereignty is very important. It’s not selfishness because in order to be able to have a proper relationship, I think everyone should be able to love every aspect of themselves and be able to be on their own for a long time.

Social media is very dangerous, it’s degrading society. Especially if you believe everything you read. Using your intelligence and checking your facts is very important. I think educators have a big responsibility to teach children to see things from another angle and not to take everything at face value.

I never ever watch reality TV programmes. I know a lot of people find it relaxing but there must be something better in the world. Listen to music. Look at a beautiful piece of art. Do something that enhances your life on a daily basis.

I would like to be remembered as a good person and as a musician. It is more important though to tell someone while they’re still alive. You don’t need to wait until they die.

I’m sure I could change loads like build the house in a different way or be more savvy in business but you have to leave what’s behind, behind, you know? I never think like that, about changing things in my past.

I’m very conscious of climate change. I feel I’m not doing enough. I recycle. Living in Donegal, we depend on turf fires. They’re trying to stop the cutting of turf now and all of our lives are based on turf fires. It’s the heart of the house, the smell is part of our heritage.

I can’t afford an electric car. All of us, I’m sure, want to have this idealistic carbon-free life but it’s very costly and I can’t afford it.

When I was young, I was really attracted to the fiddle but I did have a harp because Moya Brennan of Clannad lived up the road and I thought she was amazing. I never really played it though, you have long nails for the harp.

I try very hard to be a good mother and a good music musical partner in all the bands I’m in. It’s important that we all approach the music in a democratic way. Everybody’s input is equal.

It surprises me when people aren’t charitable towards each other. That sounds very innocent in a way but I just don’t understand it; like what’s happening in Ukraine.

What scares me most in life is not being understood. The approach of respecting the other person’s attitude is where we should all start. The freedom of choice is very important.

I can’t see myself doing anything else but if I took a different fork then I would stick to teaching and I’d be retired now. But I wouldn’t change it for the world.