Even there, hiding has recently become more difficult as Chinese and North Korean security agents step up patrols under a special agreement to control the migration, local ethnic Korean residents say. In one village near the city of Yanji, a family of five spends most of its time hiding inside a benefactor's home, performing odd jobs in return for shelter and a bit of money. The famine barely affected them, says the daughter, but they decided to try to join her grandfather in the South. They arrived in January, and are saving up money to pay human smugglers to take them the rest of the way. Local officials seem to ignore them out of pity.
Many young women find a way out by marrying Chinese men.
The less fortunate fall prey to human traffickers and end up in brothels in large Chinese cities such as Shenyang, Harbin and Dandong, according to locally born ethnic Koreans in Yanji. Their uncertain life, with the constant fear of expulsion, causes many of the North Koreans who stay to turn to Christianity for solace. Some South Korean aid workers are missionaries, while local Christian churches run by ethnic Koreans also reach out to the refugees. Such contacts worry North Korean officials, says the party member from North Hamkyong province. Authorities routinely ask returning migrants if they met any South Korean missionaries in China, intensifying their interrogation if the answer is yes, he says.