It All Started with a Stache

All great friendships begin with a stache. 

Hao Jie's life-changing stache. 

It was first months in China (Fall of 2010) and I was lonely. The family that I loved and needed now was un-huggable. My friends that I laughed with were now condensed to emails. I loved my new Beijing life, but the “guitar” of my heart was out of tune.

Then I spotted the stache.

Chinese men can do many things very well - nap, slurp noodles, use chopsticks, figure out innovative ways to transport things on bikes, inspire you to wear deodorant - but growing facial hair is not one of them.

So when I saw a tall and beefy middle-age man with a black mustache, he instantly reminded me of my Dad. Because I was so lonely, whenever I saw this mustached man I would proudly proclaim one of the only Chinese phrases I knew, “Ni hao.” The mustached man would smile.

Pretty soon I figured out that the mustached man fried bread (a tortilla the size of 3.2 basketballs infused with onion, salt and oil) in the alley right behind my house. I learned the mustached man’s name – Hao Jie. Like my Dad he loved to smile, but unlike my Dad, he had never flossed, couldn’t speak English, did not have a master’s degree and worked in the big city while his parents raised his children in the countryside.

Hao Jie, his wife Guzi and I became good friends. I would eat his basketball onion greasy bread about twice a week. They would shout my name, “Mi Jia! (excellent rice) and wave every time I passed by.

Fast forward one year (October of 2011) and I was chatting with Hao Jie in Chinese about something forgettable. Just as I was about to head home a young dude with ear buds walks up to Hao Jie’s little stand and orders some basketball onion greasy bread. He takes his ear buds out and says in flawlessly rapid English, “Hey dude. What’s up?”

I didn’t know what to say.

Usually I’m the most extra-est extrovert; but this kid beat me to the punch. Also, this dude’s English was really solid.

I asked the young guy his name.

“My name’s Kevin.”

Kevin and I shook hands and then migrated to some little stools (about the size you’d find in a doll house) sat and ate 串 (chuan – greasy, spicy, cheap lamb shishkabob) and drank a beer for about two hours.

Kevin actually was already a Christian, he went to a Christian high school in rural China and had American teachers – hence the flawless slang. A friendship instantly sparked.

I got Kevin’s number and invited him to read the Book at my house. Kev came to our studies on Tuesday and Saturday nights very faithfully and really brought some much needed Chinese male leadership into our group. As the months trickled past our bond grew deeper. I washed Kevin on a Tuesday in June of 2012. One of the highlights of my China life!

Then Kevin became an even more integral part of our lives by becoming the manager of our English weekend school. He was the bridge between the teachers and the parents. His smile diffused many frowns.

Finally, two months ago Kevin married his high school sweetheart, Andrea. It was a Christian wedding in the communist capitol. He asked me to be the photographer.

As I was snapping pictures of this man that I feel like I’ve known for decades, I smile when I remember it all began with a stache.