A girl with something to sing about

Officially she is Margaret Camilleri Fenech, her Gozitan friends and family fondly call her Gerita, while in Malta and among Eurovision fans she is the sultry Morena. Ariadne Massa met all three.

A reed curtain flutters in the light gust of wind, exposing a key, dangling in typical Gozitan fashion, from the front door of the Camilleri family's abode, in a deserted main street in Sannat. Inside, Morena and her mother are ready with a welcoming smile and an offer - which is impossible to refuse - of tea and biscuits.

Morena is not one to obsess about her weight and relishes every morsel of food, pooh-poohing the fact that so many girls spend their entire lives swinging from one fad diet to the next. As she sits back in the plush red sofa, she admits that in the past months she had effortlessly shed weight due to the stress and frenetic lifestyle she has been leading since winning the Song for Europe festival in January.

To complicate matters, the week before the festival Morena and her husband Marvin had to move out of their apartment in Victoria, after wide cracks appeared in the ceiling because of construction work next door - their home was condemned and they had to move out to live with her parents.

"Everything happens for a reason. God knows what He's doing because although it was bad timing, it was a time when I really needed my mother's support. If I had stayed at the flat I may not have been able to cope," she says.

Morena is not one to kick up a fuss and she takes everything - losses and successes - in her stride. She is not your typical Eurovision contender, and lacks the egocentric streak sometimes paraded by stage divas who throw a tantrum if they fail to win.

Does she feel pressured into making the grade after Malta suffered two consecutive disappointments?

"I'm not going to Serbia to balm the wounds of past years. I'm going there with my song and I'll do my best. If it's God's will, I'll make it. If not, no big deal, maybe there's something else in store for me. I believe my destiny is written.

"Of course, at the time you have to be made of plastic not to feel anything if you lose, but you move on. I have already told them (the Maltasong delegation) that if I don't make it through the semi-final (on May 22), I'll wear my most beautiful dress and go to the final, waving the Maltese flag and partying hard.

"And I'm dragging everybody to the arena with me. I don't want to see long faces and God forbid somebody sells the tickets," she says, pushing back the sleek, black locks from her face. Each year, Morena keeps her date with the Eurovision contest and gets together with her friends in a farmhouse for a party. She is not about to lose the opportunity of watching it live if she fails to make it through to the final.

When Chiara was competing in Ukraine in 2005, Morena had reluctantly conceded to sing at a wedding, but her mind was elsewhere. It was the first time she had to miss the festival, so she was constantly checking her mobile phone for news updates.

Though she is a relative newcomer to the scene, the festival - derided as kitsch by many, but watched by more than eight million viewers - has always had a special place in Morena's affections.

Together with her cousin Maria, who lived next door, she would organise their mini version of the Eurovision, called the Flamingo festival, which was held several times throughout the year. They had the organisation down to a tee - even designing their own invitations, hand painted with pigeons and butterflies, which they sent out to the children in the neighbourhood. Morena's mother was roped in to help decorate the 'stage', a quiet spot behind the house, with plants and lights, and they would buy sweets to hand out after the 'concert'.

Did the children show up for the sweets?

"No, at least I don't think so," she says.

Her cousin, who was two years older, was not as confident as Morena, and after days of rehearsals - her mother's hall doubled as the Mediterranean Conference Centre in their world of make-believe - Maria would get stage fright.

Morena would then have to coax her into at least presenting the show and she would do the rest - dance and sing to the children's delight.

The desire to sing and dance is programmed in Morena's genes. By the time she was three, she was already spending hours singing and perfecting her moves in front of the big horizontal mirror that covered the wall of her parents' hallway.

Holding a broomstick or a brush, she would memorise the songs of her favourite cartoons, The Smurfs and Lady Oscar, and then spend hours singing them in the hall... giving her poor mother a headache.

Little Morena was brought up in a household where music was always being played in the background. Seeing his daughter's potential, her father enrolled her in a choir where she was quickly adopted as the mascot. Her earliest memories of the Eurovision go back to 1991 when Paul and Georgina won the local festival.

Though she was just seven at the time, she remembers every detail, right down to how the stage was decorated.

Whenever she watched the festival with her family, Morena would look longingly at the television screen, and once it was over would say to her mother: "One day I'll be on that stage."

At 24, she realised her dream when she rocked the audience with the song Vodka, the creation of winning duo Philip Vella and Gerard James Borg. Morena first met Vella in 2004, when she took part in her first festival L-Għanja tal-Poplu, with Teddy Zammit, and placed third. Vella saw her potential and kept her in mind when he wanted somebody who was prepared to experiment with different genres and musical styles.

Having formed part of the Gozitan band Spectrum for six years - which is where she earned the nickname Morena (the dark one) - meant she had gained the experience and was always up for a new challenge. So Vodka was born.

The song was written with her in mind, but it was never intended for the Song for the Europe festival. It was part of another project, but the trio were so excited and surprised with the outcome that they decided to submit it for the local contest. Though she claims not to have much luck in festivals, Morena walked off with the coveted trophy at this year's contest, and went on to place fourth with her second song Casanova.

"I liked both songs, but I preferred Vodka just a tad more," she says, suddenly switching her accent to Gozitan when her aunt walked into the room.

The youngest of four girls, Morena comes from a closely-knit family. Before having to relinquish her free time to focus on the festival, she would enjoy going for long walks in the countryside with her nephews and nieces, cutting wild flowers and later pressing them in the scrap book.

Is there something she misses?

"I used to enjoy painting and now I don't have time for it. Doing cross-stitch has also taken a back seat," she says, refusing to dwell on these things and pointing out that everything has its pros and cons.

Apart from rescheduling her life, she has had to put her job of six years as a facilitator at the Bishop's Conservatory primary school in Victoria on hold, and she really misses the students.

Does she feel her life has slipped out of her hands?

"It does a bit, but I'm still the same person. If you change who you are, then it wasn't really you in the first place," she says matter-of-factly.

Morena has become a star with the Gozitans, but she humbly shrugs aside any illusions and insists that she's still the same 'Gerita' of the neighbourhood, though admits she feels a bit uncomfortable with all the attention.

"I won't go into a new shop on my own, because although I feel at ease on stage, I'm actually quite shy and, when people stop me in the street, I'll be shaking inside."

These days, she is having to overcome this inner shyness as she faces one journalist after another. Her diary is packed with interviews, television shows, and autograph-signing sessions, plus she has kept her previous bookings, which were made in advance and were impossible to cancel.

She is also getting regular vocal lessons from her sister, soprano Georgina Gauci, and each day she has to spend at least half an hour practising her song: "You have no idea how strict she is... There are no excuses at having had no time to practise."

There are times when she wakes up at 6 a.m. to catch the ferry to Malta and returns with the last ferry home. Suffering from seasickness does not help. Recently, when she was competing in the Malta International Song TV festival, she arrived at the studio with a green pallor and shaking after wrenching her guts out on the boat.

"The make-up artist had to pile layers of foundation to bring some colour back to my face... The worst thing was that I had to return to Gozo that night," she adds.

Being poorly had no impact and she went on to win that festival with the song Il-Bogħod mill-Għajn, Il- Bogħod mill-Qalb. Consequently, one month after Eurovision she will be flying to the Canary Islands to perform in an international contest.

So far, each time she has won a competition Morena has been struck by some ailment or other. Before the Song for Europe festival she was nursing high fever, and she cringes when she remembers the look on her doctor's face when she insisted on going ahead with her performance. But that is all in the past. Now she is focusing on the few intensive yet exciting weeks ahead - rehearsing her moves with the four male Swedish dancers and sharpening her act.

As the Eurovision draws closer, the hype gains momentum and Europeans begin to engage in online forums to crucify or elevate the contestants. How does she feel when she comes across bad reviews?

"I avoid entering certain websites. Some are just on a mission to dishearten the contestants with abusive language. Constructive criticism is one thing, but some are downright hurtful, so I prefer not to know," she says.

"You may not like the music or the way the singer interprets the song and you have every right to feel that way, but there's no need to wipe the floor with the song. Sometimes it is plain obvious that they're just pushing another singer and disparaging the others.

"I've never been overcome by jealously. Thank goodness it's not a trait I possess. Instead of wasting my energy feeling envious because somebody may have a better song, I just focus on my entry."

As she gets ready for the first Eurovision preview party at Scala in London (held last Friday), Morena expresses the hope that Lordi, Finland's monster winning act in 2006, will hear about her proposal to perform together.

"When Lordi stepped on stage I instantly knew they would win. I hope they hear about me and accept my offer to sing together. I'd love it - their music and image is so original," she enthuses.

Morena loves rock and the music tastes of her older sisters have rubbed off on her. Instead of listening to the music of her generation, she prefers to tune in to music by Eurythmics and Annie Lennox, Tina Turner, Pink Floyd or the Eagles.

Is she dreading the national furore and analysis that always follows the Eurovision?

"Well, it's to be expected. I'll just go with the flow. I'm not one to sit around and mope."