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I'll drink to inner, outer joy

By ALEXANDRA ZAYAS
Published September 22, 2006

Sweet incense and reggae filled Cephas Gilbert's back yard while his friends drank Red Stripe beers, ate curry goat and filled bins with money.

The party in Ybor City was a benefit to reopen his 25-year-old Jamaican restaurant, Cephas Hot Shop, which burned down early this year after a small coffeepot caught fire. But to his regulars, it was more than just a fundraiser.

It was a glimpse into the world of the curbside prophet.

Saturday's party was the first time in 12 years that the neighborhood legend opened his back yard to guests. And though the event didn't make enough money to reopen the Hot Shop, Cephas' friends hope it will be the first of many neighborhood parties.

Most had never seen Cephas outside the makeshift stand he crafted after the fire to sell his aloe smoothies and espouse eccentric health wisdom to all of Fourth Avenue.

Cephas made his way toward me sporting his usual camo pants, black tank top and knit cap he uses to hold his long strings of hair. But the guy who nags at people not to eat pork or drink beer had a cigar in his mouth. I called him out on it.

"You got to do somet'ing," he joked.

Some people shake hands the first time they meet. Cephas smeared aloe on my face.

Three months ago, I visited his smoothie stand to interview him for a story and learn about the aloe he grows on his front porch.

Before I knew it, he was working the aloe goop deep into the pores of my face with his thumbs, rough and callused from decades of handling the prickly plant. I left with aloe smeared on my hair and glued on my eyelashes.

"Ha-loe will change your life," he preached as his regulars looked on. A construction worker. A businessman. A mom. They'd all heard his spiel and, for whatever reason, kept coming back several times a week for a blender full of the bitter plant foam for five bucks a pop.

They say the smoothies have improved their digestion. Their skin is clearer. They feel more energy. I've heard about a woman who passed three kidney stones after her first drink and met another who shrank from a size 14 to a six.

But that's not why I look forward to my thrice-a-week afternoon aloe smoothie breaks. Sure, my tummy is flatter and I feel like doing cartwheels in the newsroom when I return. Sure, I get a kick out of hearing the Cephas-isms:

It's soap for your intestines.

It gives your food an exit plan.

It'll make you more fertile, be careful.

But what really quenches my thirst is the sense of community I feel in front of Cephas' stand. One day, a guy I'd never met gave Cephas cash to let me taste the jerk chicken he was cooking, because I had never tried it. Before I could thank him, the guy was gone.

Darlene Coker's 7-year-old son, Ben, smiles every time Cephas gives him mangoes from his tree. Dennis Hof spent weeks helping Cephas clear his back yard for the party, and Sam Johnston made Cephas' Web site for free.

As drive-through Starbucks windows replace independent coffeehouses and Bluetooth headset cell phones separate strangers on the street, it's refreshing to meet the people who share the same appreciation of what Cephas represents: the unique spirit and personal touch of an independent business.

I've found no better place to break up my weekday afternoons than at Cephas' oasis - standing in the sunshine, drinking a plant.

Alexandra Zayas can be reached at 226-3354 or azayas@sptimes.com

To know MORE

See Cephas at 1701 E Fourth Ave. or visit www.cephas hotshop.com.

[Last modified September 21, 2006, 06:51:25]