Tree Roots among the Suds at Zambo Aroma

“When Angel was born,” Tree recalled, “he had really bad eczema.” I was standing in Zambo Aroma listening to Tree Alexander speak briefly about his business. 

“The doctors gave us some prescriptions which only caused more discomfort. So, I created our eczema care cream and rubbed him down four times a day, and his skin cleared up in six weeks. When the eczema care cream worked for Angel, everybody else wanted some and that started the snowball effect.”

 As I stood there, I enjoyed the aroma of the large spacious shop on 3848 White Plains Road in the Bronx. Smells of faint incense, sweet fragrance and woodsy herbs created a sense of tranquility. My eyes wandered throughout the homely lit shop and took in the images of the prominent Black figures.

The popular photo of Victorian era, Ida B. Wells with her natural hair pulled up into a bun is framed and sits on the ledge of a shelf. There’s also photos of Dr. Carver Washington, Dr. Sabi, and Madam C. J. Walker. There are holiday decorations up and as if playing Finding Waldo, there are many mini figurines of Black Santas, standing erect in several corners.

Towards the front of the shop sit two decorative love sofas and a small coffee table. There is a little girl swinging her legs back and forth as she looks down at a tablet. Along the wall are wooden shelves holding all sorts of products: plastic wrapped naturally made soaps, soy candles, sweet smelling scrubs, skin care cream, fabric sprays, and even handmade laundry detergent. 

Tree Alexander and some members of his Family

It was the day before Thanksgiving and the shop buzzed with Tree’s family members. Besides the little girl, Tree’s sons sat nearby playing video games and Tree’s father, Darryl, who was visiting from the city of Chicago, walked about putting smiles on people faces.

Tree Alexander, who is a parent of 5, and a social worker by profession, went to school for cosmetology. However, it was only when his son, Angel, was born that his dream of soap making as a profession began to flourish.   

“Business is really good,” Tree says with a smile on his face.”We started this business without a funder, investor or loan. We used all of our pocket change.” 

Tree spoke while pulling soap samples out of a jar and stuffing them into a clear plastic bag that held my previously purchased soy candles. He gave me bits and pieces of his story as a business owner and as a Black American. 

“I stood outside of this building when it was empty and sold soap on the weekends to save up enough money to get into this space.

Just like Ida B. Wells, Tree traveled, investing in his art before settling down in a new city as a Social Worker.

“I moved to New York when I was 19 and after spending all my money trying to become a broadway star, I practiced social work for ten years.  After I brought my first property and the kids started to come, I decided I wanted to work for myself….and this is what I always wanted to do…”  

I don’t own the property but that is my next step.” 

Tree Alexander packing soap and candles with a Black Santa sitting on the register .Opposite are flyers from community organizations

“Currently, We are doing very well. We have orders from up and down the east cost. We get a lot of business from Georgia and North Carolina. In addition, a lot of my products are made with ingredients from CSA’s and Black owned farms. We get shipments every day from Connecticut and New Jersey.” 

Sitting on the counter are flyers of community activities that take place at the store. I take a card for a book club and this reminds Tree of the other side of his business.

“In addition to skincare, we host, paint and sips, book clubs, and Zumba classes. There was no way I was going to start a business and not include the community!”

Tree looks at the soaps sitting on the shelf and put more gifts in my bag.

“This is a gift.” He says while wrapping it. “It’s a wild oats soap. The bar is made with olive oil, oatmeal and activated charcoal…. It’s a very conscience business I want to provide. Our mission is to provide health, healing and education…Not only are our products naturally made but all of our soaps have quotes or affirmations on the labels.” 

Naga Warrior products, the most popular product at Zambo Aroma

I pick up the soap bar I purchased, Naja Warrior bar, It reads: Purify and stimulate the conscious mind, memory, and mental performance.

“The Naga Warrior bar tells the story of the African civilizations which are found in South East Asia. These communities are connected to the foundation of Buddhism. They historically traveled on the monsoons between Africa and Asia. This is our most popular soap.” Naga bar which goes for $10.00 a bar on their website

“Our lavender deodorant talks about the American southern route, which was like a trade route for Black people.” When asked who did the writing, Tree acknowledged his team. “Carlton, my partner, is the writer, he makes everything possible virtually, he does all the websites and social media and I am in the kitchen”. 

Showing his generosity, he adds more soaps to the bag.

Tree, “I think that’s enough now,” I said laughing.

“Well, just in case you have friends!” He responds.

While Tree does most of his business in the northeast; his humble beginnings started in the Ida B. Wells projects in Chicago. 

Tree was born in the heart of Chicago, in Brownsville. The town named for the people who lived there. The same town Harlem Renaissance writers like Gwendolyn Brooks, Countee Cullen and Langston Hughes wrote about in their poems. 

Tree lit up while talking about the history of  his hometown. “Brownsville is in the south side of Chicago and runs directly into the Ida B. Wells projects and that’s where the clubs were back in the day. That’s where you went shopping and went to church! Aretha Franklin’s father was associated with that area so you know, the churches were packed! All kinds of stuff happened there!

As a child, Tree’s father taught him about his roots in Chicago through family stories and Black literature. He was exposed to writers like George Schuyler, Richard Wright and Langston Hughes.

“I read Black no More in the 6th grade. I would never forget that story. I now, reread the stories my dad had me read as a kid, I always find something new.” 

When I mentioned that I’ll look up the books on Amazon, he offered to lend me his books pulling them out of his library.

He continued, “I love my city. I would definitely go back to do business and networking. But I don’t think I would go back to live. Brownsville is a lost neighborhood now. Most of the stores are closed and boarded-up. It almost looks like other lost American cities. It’s rough. It’s not the same as it was before.” 

His father, walked into the shop and stopped by the counter to join the conversation. 

“Brownsville?!” He shouted in a teasing manner. “What you know about Brownsville?” Where you from?” His father asked me, making me laugh.

“I am from the Bronx.”

“Where is your family from?”

“My mother is from Gloucester, Virgina which is-“

“Oh, don’t tell me. I’m from Hampton Roads too! I know about Hampton and Norfolk. I was in the service down there! I was at Langley – you know the movie Hidden Figures? about the Black sister with the math? I was at Langley Hampton and I ate at that same cafeteria Taraji ate at in the film!”

Tree’s Father spoke fast and comical while sharing his very serious story about being a Black man in the service. His son looked on and smiled.

“I can’t believe you had your son reading Richard Wright when he was in the 6th grade sir!” I said when I could squeeze a line in. “I can’t even read Richard Wright without shivering now!”

He took a breath and in a serious, teaching tone replied, “Well, It’s important. Every Black boy needs to know about Bigger Thomas. They need to know that eventually you get caught for your dirt. That image needs to be embedded in their minds.” 

Perhaps its true images that are embedded into Tree’s mind which are still carrying him today.

Sometimes images of pain and dispair can help create images of health and hope.

No doubt, fundamentally, Tree’s images are connected to his roots which enable him, as a practicing cosmetologist, to use his psychology skills as a community builder. I am almost certain these Images are connected to Brownsville, Bigger and the Bronx which helps him persevere as a business man.

Perhaps those images seem like one large piece work of art – moving, yet still- and even though it can be difficult at times to pull apart Ida from Chicago or separate nostalgia from the future, bringing them all together is what matters because its the root of the mixture that creates the Zambo Aroma.

The Whetstonian

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On North Jefferson Street, in downtown Jacksonville, Florida there sits a huge building. The locals don’t see it as much as an outsider. Its there but it’s not there.

The building sits  in beauty amongst   greenery and fine vintage objects like a Harriet Tubman bust, fluegelhorns and trumpets and trombones and piano innards, mannequin parts, tall tin plates emblazoned with architectural slogans by Mies van der Rohe and Frank Lloyd Wright, and human-faced suns in factory cogs.

An outsider wouldn’t know that this building has historical value. However, an insider may know, especially a black insider.

This building sits in Jacksonville’s downtown district area and looks as if it should be a museum.

When my sister asked me what area I wanted to photograph one morning during my stay down there, I  described this building.

“Take me to the building with the broken mirror pieces in the door. You know, the one that is surrounded by green shrubs and have objects in the walls. The one that takes up the span of one block”. I told her.

“Oh,  that’s the building Mother Seabrooks used to go to on Friday nights back in the day before she was saved!!

“Really?”

“Yeah, apparently, that’s where everyone went. She said it was the hot spot for musicians and dancers. It was the center of night life in Jacksonville.

“Wow”.

“Yeah, even Ray Charles and other famous African American musicians. Attached is a hair salon that is closed now. Everyone black would go there to get their hair done.”

“What is it now?”

“I don’t know. I don’t think it’s much now. It’s never opened.”

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Before I  returned home, I began to do research on the building.

My visit to the Ritz Theater and Museum let me know that the entire neighborhood (that housed the building) was called La Villa. La Villa, I gathered was like Harlem in Jacksonville.

Bishop, the young and knowledgeable tour guide who met us at The Ritz gave my sister and I fundamental education about African American history in Jacksonville.

‘You see, the downtown area is really OUR La Villa, he began, La Villa is the name of the very affluent African American neighborhood in which everything happened. We ran shops and stores, we built schools and churches. Everyone who was black and somebody in that time, existed in La Villa”. I listened closely to Bishop as he walked me slowly through the museum and schooled us on Jacksonville’s history.

Then, in the 1990’s  Mayor, Ed Austin, destroyed much of La Villa during his term under his ‘urban renewal’ plan. A lot of the blacks moved out the neighborhood changed and not to many people stayed behind to stop the city from coming in and bull dozing our neighborhood. People probably left before that. Now, La Villa, which was once a plantation, turned popular neighborhood among the blacks,  became a ghost town. Currently, in  LaVilla, stand the old Brewster Hospital, three shotgun shacks, the Ritz Theatre and Museum, and the Clara White Mission. That’s it. And we don’t know how long before something else is taken down.

He showed us photos and told stories of business owners, principles, inventors, preachers and even photographers. It’s  where I found out about Augusta Savage, an amazing African American sculptor who should be celebrated much more for her art work.

The visit to the museum helped me to put missing pieces together. It set up a mental stage for me. La Villa was the place where working and middle class African American’s lived. They were all successful in keeping the dollar in the black community and lifting up each other.

Now I know about La Villa. What about this building.

Why is it closed?

After typing the address and the original name of the place, I came across an article dated 2016. I found out the place was called The Whetstonian and was owned by an African American man named Walter Whetstone.

“If Smithson can have his Smithsonian,” he explained, “then Whetstone can have the Whetstonian.”

The second article I came across was more detailed and written by Jacksonville professor, Tim Gilmore. This article  reaffirmed the little my sister did know about the place, “Blind Blake and Jelly Roll Morton played at the Whetstonian. So did just about any jazz or blues musician you can think of from the 1930s through the 1950s” it states.

Walter Whetstone , experienced his father driving an ice truck and collecting all sorts of things from the trash as a child and pretty soon he picked up the same habit.

Each item he saved was something special. When the city of Jacksonville decided that it would deface the building, he brought it. Then, it became his own museum if you will. The space where his junk from the trash would be stored. Each item placed in a particular spot.

Mr. Whetstone specialized in collecting historical African American artifacts. He knew exactly what to pick and how to use it to create art.  With this niche, he created the Whetstonian, a home for all of his collections.

There’s a lot of black history around here, including me. He told the interviewer.

When this article was written, Mr. Whetstone was already 80 and still fighting to keep it alive and well from the city’s grasp.

I am currently still doing research on this building. I hope it would soon become a landmark and one day open up as an museum.

 

 

Some of the people we met

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While at the Louis Armstrong museum, we met some art lovers who happened to be visiting city at the same time. Very intelligent and talented intellectuals who bonded with us over beignets, fried chicken, collards, and avocado wraps.

We met them for Sunday dinner afterwards and had a blast talking about the city and life. They were the age of our parents and talked to us as daughters. When they learned of the little trouble we got into while there, they warned us about creating a better travel plan for next time and then spoke to us about our careers and future.

 

We met so many people we kept a list of who we met and where.

The first was our Uber driver, James, who was the first to tell us his true opinion of NOLA. ‘If anyone tell you they had a bad experience in NOLA, it’s because of something they did.’

Then we met the crew mentioned above: Marget, Melissa, Fritz, Adjoa and Debra

Around the same time, I met James at the lemonade stand who asked me how old I was and then if Stacy and I brought our boyfriends along.

When we left the museum and fair, we met the tour guide assistant who helped us pick a tour…

We met the bus driver, Marlon, who spoke to us about the disparities in NOLA and told us to visit the 9th ward if we really wanted to see the hood.

We met Lindsay and her boyfriend who set us straight about the pronunciation of New Or-leanSS.

 

We met very intelligent Ellenie, who worked at a herb shop. She knew the names of different herbs and what each on was used for. I learned that Ginko helps with retaining memory.

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We ran into smooth talker Dabir at the flea market and Shari and her friends outside of the market.

Then, Shanay, a soon to be bride, whose photo is on my blog, posed with her girlfriends at a popular Cajun sea food spot.

The most funny crew was Ron, Robert and Rick. The ‘R’ Crew at Cafe Dumonde. They weren’t even related but acted like brothers.

The most daring was meeting Mr. Keith who allowed me to climb a ladder and take photos of the painting on the side of the building.

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We met Uber Driver Kynytia who told us how to pronounce the supermarket name, Robért’s. You can’t say Robert’s. You have to pay attention to the accent.

Then, Kimble, the most dope uber driver and musician who rapped his songs to us on the way back home.

Where we stayed, we met Zachariah, an ecologist who told us Louisiana loses a football field of land everyday.  

We met Cameron at the famous Gumbo shop and because he was standing on line ahead of us turned around and engaged in conversation with us. He was visiting from Wyoming on a business trip. He asked if he could join us when the waiter called us.

We ran into the same Australian couple two or three times.

Then, at the musical festival, we met dancers after their show whose names were Suga baby doll, G baby doll, baby doll kit, and Pinky. All baby dolls.

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