Over the years I’ve watched technology grow in leaps and bounds. America always seems to be a step ahead of the rest of the world when it comes to new gear and ways of setting it up, but eventually everyone catches up. I like to watch as they do, just as much as I like teaching in countries that are way behind. Last week I went back to Africa for the first time in years and noticed quite a change. I prefer to deal with privately owned mom-and-pop lighting companies over big corporations. I like personalized service and people who remember me, even if I only see them every five to eight years. Ofer Lapid comes to mind when I say this. He stands out from the pack. I first met this man in 1991 when I showed up in Africa with Paul Simon. He had moved to Jo’berg from Israel and started up a small lighting company called Lighting Unlimited and he did everything himself, from the accounting to the dealing with the gear. He was a one-man team surrounded by a bunch of clueless yet eager Africans yearning to learn.
Chewing Gum Connections
Ofer was just starting out. His version of multicables consisted of taped bundles of 2.5mm cable with CEE-form connectors on them. He had to buy his first Socopex connectors just so he could plug in the 9-lite Mole Feys that I carried with the tour. But he didn’t mind; he was willing to invest every dime he made to upgrade his gear. Patching dimmers was something that had to be done every day because he did not own any DMX stuff, just miles of banana jacks and old dimmers. I’d watch with wonder as Ofer had his crew wire ACL bulbs (low voltage PARs) in series to make them work. He would feed 240 volts on one cable and then string eight PARs in a row in series to supply them with 28 volts each. Ofer had his guys chew gum and then take bare wires and connect each end from one bulb to another with the gum. In about five minutes the gum would dry out and thus a connection was made.
In 1991, Ofer looked me in the eye, pounded his fist and swore to me, “Nook my friend, one day you will see. South Africa will be just as good as your United States when it comes to lighting.” I doubted him at the time. But last week as we sat down for dinner I was proud to tell him that his dreams had been realized. His company did a better job than 90 percent of the lighting companies in America. I did a week of rehearsals in Sun City where I programmed 18 hours per day and I only broke one lighting fixture out of 100. And George, his African crew chief about whom I cannot say enough good things, fixed it without ever taking it down.
In less than 20 years Ofer had brought in the right people (Tim Dunn and Pete Currier, I thank you), trained the locals and kicked some serious ass. He had done what nobody in South America or Eastern Europe has been able to do — build a competent lighting firm. Ofer sold his company for a profit in 1996 and it became Gearhouse. They now have lighting, audio and video gear. While he stayed employed by this company, it soon became a non-profitable venture and Ofer was not pleased. So in 2001 he bought it all back and turned it around.
Turning the Clock Back Again
After two weeks, I left South Africa and went to Nigeria for a series of shows. It was 1991 all over again. I had one Frenchman named Vincent who had a clue. Everyone else was trying their best, but it was just a comedy of errors from the start. My dependable Robe fixtures had been replaced with outdated fixtures that some European lighting company had pawned off. My cables were all dodgy. The AC lines to get power to my console consisted of 15 five-meter cables strung together thru the crowd. I actually had to ask them to tape these connectors together so the crowd would not unplug them.
My lone spotlight was found in an old theatre. It was a 1500-watt Kleigel spot that had to have been built in the 1960s. But poor Vincent got the thing to work with a bunch of gaff tape and rubber bands to keep the lenses from falling out. My intercom system to the operator was quite simple. When I waved at him halfway thru the intro number, he would turn his white light on. He blacked out when I reached behind me and tugged on his pant leg twice.
Insecurity
I’ve gigged everywhere in the world. Sometimes I am the only white guy in the audience, but I have never been afraid…until now. But it wasn’t the audience that frightened me, it was the security. The promoter had obviously never heard of the famed “Altamont” concert where the Hell’s Angels provided security for a Stones show. It resulted in many beatings and a death of an attendee. This promoter hired two gangs as the security. One gang patrolled the outside of the stadium with menace in their eyes. Once I saw them, I had no plans to leave the gig.
But then I got inside the stadium and it was worse. The inside was divided into three sections, according to the price of the ticket. The security was made up of a tribal gang of huge men. Six-foot six-inches was the standard height. They carried baseball bats, golf wedges and caveman style clubs to enforce these zones. Then to keep these guys from killing people, the local police were there as well, located behind FOH, carrying AK-47 assault rifles.
The concert was actually held in a fenced off area of a humongous polo field. The only bathrooms were located under the bleachers hundreds of feet away. One look at the security guards was all it took to know that not one member of the crew was willing to risk their life to take a leak. I asked the promoter where I should relieve myself. He pointed at the wall upstage next to the buses that served as our dressing rooms.
Power Struggles
The biggest problem I found here was a shortage of power. It seemed like every night in Nigeria I would lose AC from the generators or the power feed to my consoles would get interrupted. I was thankful for the battery powered UPS which constantly saved me. Every hour or so it would start flashing and beeping, allowing me 30 minutes of precious time to sort out who had unplugged my power. They also couldn’t grasp the fact that Martin Atomic strobes draw more power than the older fixtures. They were attached to 10 amp breakers that immediately blew if you brought the strobes to full, thus rendering them useless.
But my favorite part was the constant struggle between the local lighting company and the house lighting guys. They had brought in extra lighting for house lights but had nowhere to plug in the cables to light them up. So whenever the dimmer tech wasn’t looking, all my lights on the mid truss would mysteriously shut off and the field of people would illuminate. They would unplug stage cables, front of house and spot power to give me crowd light. This ongoing struggle was finally decided by fisticuffs and I was just fortunate to have a large dimmer guy with a good right hook.
