His legal name is Zhang Jei Ming, but at the orphanage in Qingdao, China, he is known as Hunter — and that is what Spencer Kim ’13 has called him since meeting him there almost six years ago.
Since then, Hunter has been a part of Kim’s life, if only for a few weeks every summer when Kim has made the trek to Qingdao with a church group from his hometown of Torrance, Calif., to volunteer at Sarang House, an orphanage run by his pastor’s mother. Their time with one another, and their contact, is concentrated solely within that small period of time, but it’s enough for Kim to know that his relationship with Hunter is a special one — for both of them.
“It is,” says Kim, “like having a little brother.”
Kim can’t quite put his finger on why the two hit it off so well. Their friendship began with Kim’s attempt at introducing himself in Chinese (“Probably the worst he’s ever heard,” quips Kim); Hunter was only a little farther along in his English, for which Kim provided assistance.
“He would always come to me,” recalls Kim. “There was just something there, right at the start. He had a tattered notebook and we would write and draw in it to help him with his English. I taught him games — ‘Sticks,’ thumb-wrestling, rock-paper-scissors — and we found ways to communicate.”
Kim would come to find out that Hunter had been placed in the orphanage by his widowed mother because she wanted him to have a Christian upbringing; otherwise, Hunter would have likely followed in the footsteps of his grandfather, whom Kim understood to be a village witch doctor of sorts.
The summer visits to Sarang House continued. Kim graduated high school and moved east to attend Boston College, where he majored in human development and sociology. Hunter went through the familiar strains and stresses of puberty, shot up in height, and struggled with his studies but continued to progress in English, making for improved communication between the two.
“We would have those few weeks together, and the rest of the year I’d worry about him,” says Kim. “Of course, I worried about all the other kids in the orphanage, too. But then it would be summer, and we’d be together again, and things were fine.”
Now there is uncertainty. This summer, there will be no trip to see Hunter — Kim says the orphanage’s Christian identity makes for a “complicated” relationship with the Chinese government, so the church group decided against going this year so as not to possibly exacerbate tensions.
Hunter, meanwhile, is almost 16. At some point in the next few years, Kim says, Hunter — who told Kim he would like someday to be a pastor — will likely leave the orphanage to seek work or some form of vocational training. So Kim, who is planning a year in Turkey with a missionary group, hopes the summer of 2014 will see a reunion with Hunter.
Contemplating the milestone of graduation and entry into adulthood, Kim looks on his relationship with Hunter as an integral part of his growth as a person.
“We read and hear so many stories about children in need, and for me, Hunter and the other kids at Sarang House have put a face on those stories,” says Kim, whose career aspirations involve working with children from families in need of support. “I think, in these six summers, I have seen the value of giving, and I’ve learned that love can make a difference.”
—Sean Smith
