The mensch who was also a famous dancer

To the Spanish dancing world and fans across Spain, he was the beloved and acclaimed dancer Enrique Segovia. To family, friends, and the South African Jewish community, he was simply Geoffrey. 

Sir Geoffrey Neiman passed away on 22 June, his name having been synonymous with Spanish dance for decades. He went from being a young boy in Yeoville, Johannesburg to performing on stages across the world, becoming one of the foremost ambassadors for Spanish dance and helping to create an educational syllabus that continues to shape generations of dancers internationally. 

His contribution to Spanish culture earned him the Order of Isabella the Catholic, one of Spain’s highest honours bestowed on a non-Spaniard. 

The public knew the accomplished dancer, teacher, and choreographer, says his life partner of more than 61 years, Brian van Rheede. He, however, knew the man who never sought recognition. Although Geoffrey’s career brought international acclaim, Van Rheede says he remained deeply uncomfortable with praise. “He was very self-effacing,” he says. “Geoffrey wasn’t into compliments.” 

Even after receiving the knighthood from Spain, Geoffrey didn’t embraced the title. “When people wanted to pay him compliments, he’d shrug his shoulders,” Van Rheede says with a smile. “When people used to call him ‘Sir’, he’d sort of lift his nose.” 

Growing up in the late 1940s, Geoffrey became captivated by the sound of Spanish music and castanets drifting from a dance studio across the road from his home. He began taking lessons with the acclaimed South African dancer Mercedes Molina, and his talent developed at an astonishing pace. Within five years, the legendary Spanish dancer Antonio Ruiz Soler arrived in South Africa on tour and invited the teenage Geoffrey to audition. “Antonio was so flabbergasted that this talent was here that he took him to Spain,” Van Rheede says. 

This launched a career few South African dancers have matched. Geoffrey joined the internationally renowned company of Lucero Tena, performing around the world and establishing himself as one of the leading figures in Spanish dance. 

Like many performers working in Spain, he adopted a stage name, “Enrique Segovia”, chosen by his mentor, Molina. Under this name, Geoffrey built an international reputation before returning to South Africa, where he devoted himself to teaching and preserving the art form through the Spanish Dance Society’s syllabus. 

Today, that syllabus is taught across numerous countries, something Van Rheede believes meant more to Geoffrey than any personal accolade. “The legacy is carrying on,” he says. “People are doing the syllabus, and it’s growing all over the world.” 

Veteran Spanish dancer and teacher Vivienne Katz-Hamburger remembers the first time she met Geoffrey. “It was like a pop idol had walked in,” she says. “It was amazing just to see him.” 

Years later, after joining the same company and performing alongside Geoffrey, she discovered that the dancer she had admired from afar possessed none of the ego that often accompanies such success. She performed a routine at the South African Spanish Dance Championships accompanied only by palmas, the rhythmic hand clapping that is part of traditional Spanish dance. “Standing quietly behind the curtain, helping provide that accompaniment, was Geoffrey himself,” she recalls. 

“I never heard him lose his temper once. He never spoke down to anybody. It didn’t matter if it was someone backstage or one of the dancers. He spoke to everybody as if they were on his level.” 

Geoffrey and Van Rheede became known for opening their home to friends, particularly for Friday dinners that often stretched late into the night. “My favourite memory would probably be us going over to them for dinner on a Friday night and just laughing the entire meal,” Katz-Hamburger says. 

While Geoffrey’s contribution to dance changed the lives of countless students and teachers across the world, it was his generosity that left the deepest impression. “My favourite memory of Geoffrey was his incredible modesty, his incredible ability never to say no to somebody who needed anything, and his ability to share his knowledge with the world,” Van Rheede said. 

Siblings Jodi Fittinghoff and Adam Thal met the couple more than 40 years ago after their family moved from Zimbabwe to Johannesburg and became their neighbours. “From that moment on, Geoff and Brian embraced us with a love that knew no boundaries,” Fittinghoff says. “They never had children of their own, yet they loved us as though we were their own, and we loved them just as deeply.” 

Geoffrey and Van Rheede also opened up a world beyond the home they shared. “They took us to incredible theatre productions, dance performances, and concerts, shaping our appreciation for the arts from a young age,” she says. “More than that, they taught us kindness, generosity, loyalty, and unconditional love. They enriched our childhood and helped shape the people we are today. 

“To us, Geoff wasn’t just an internationally respected Spanish dancer or an icon in the dance community,” Fittinghoff says. “He was family in every way that mattered. He was humble, quiet, honest, and a mensch. Everybody loved him for his genuine kindness.” 

Fittinghoff speaks of the rare partnership Geoffrey shared with Van Rheede, a relationship the siblings grew up watching and admiring. “Their home was always filled with laughter, the best meals, interesting conversations, wonderful friends, and an incredible sense of warmth. Life with them was exciting, cultured, and full of joy.” 

What stood out most to her, though, was the unwavering devotion between the two men. “They were true partners in every sense of the word, always supporting, encouraging, and caring for each other. Their relationship was built on kindness, loyalty, and unwavering commitment.” 

“Geoff ended every conversation on a meaningful note,” she says. “Every phone call, without fail, ended with, ‘G-d Bless’. Those two simple words reflected who he was, a man of faith, kindness, and genuine care for the people he loved.” 

Although Fittinghoff and Thal never had the chance to see Geoffrey perform professionally on stage as Enrique Segovia, they grew up surrounded by evidence of the career that made him a legend, photos, and videos of performances. 

What they witnessed instead were quieter, unscripted moments that no theatre audience ever saw. “Whenever music began to play, Geoff would quietly make his way onto the dance floor,” she said. “Simply because dance was part of who he was. With the effortless grace that comes only from a lifetime of dancing, he would add a flick of the wrist, a perfectly timed foot stamp, or a few elegant steps. They were small moments, but they were mesmerising.”