(IPS) feature Ahn Soon-Ock says that before her husband left to work in South Korea four years ago, they had been poor but happy in their village in north-east China. Today, she is in tears after receiving a letter from husband who has asked for a divorce.

''I should have gone to South Korea with him,'' she says, weeping. ''He promised to return with lots of money. (Then) he sees a new woman there and won't listen to me to return.''

Once half-forgotten in their adopted land, ethnic Koreans in China are seeing dramatic changes in their lives as more members of their families leave to work in their ancestral homeland.

Although prosperity has finally come to their once impoverished communities, that wealth is exacting a steep price as families fall apart under the pressure of long-distance relationships.

Most of these Koreans in China are descendants of migrants who fled the Korean peninsula, which lies to the east of the country, at the end of the Chosun Dynasty in 1910 and during the Japanese colonial period of 1910 to 1945.

Now numbering some 1.88 million, these ethnic Koreans, popularly known as 'Chosun' people, had settled mostly in the northern-eastern China where they are spread in some 4,000 villages.

For generations, they lived in relative peace, although they stood out because they kept their Korean culture and language. Often, many had problems blending in with the Chinese people.

Economic migrants

In the late 1990s, however, the Chosun communities began to prosper as a result of the remittances of those who found work in South Korea.

The Chosun workers' annual remittances (just to the Chinese Yenbyen region) are estimated at US$200 million, an amount that is bigger than the regional government's annual fiscal budget.

There are now at least 70,000 'Chosun' people in South Korea, most of them working illegally in factories for monthly wages that range from 700,000 won (US$538) to more than one million won (US$770).

While such sums are just about equal to the minimum monthly wage here in South Korea, they are considered a fortune in China.

To be sure, there are still those who say their marriages remain strong even though their spouse is now in the land that they used to just hear about from their parents.

One example is Yoo Kum-Sun, who lives in a village near Yanji in China, bordering Russia and North Korea. She says her husband still calls her up often, and sends money regularly. She adds, ''I am happy and we are living better.''

Many, however, echo the laments of Soon-Ock, saying that their spouses have all but forgotten them. Lee Young-Ryul, 48, who lives next door to Soon-Ock, says he no longer hears from his wife, who is in Seoul. He says, "'I lost my wife to South Korea. I'm no longer waiting for her.''

But observers also say that the woes of these communities are no longer confined to increasing cases of broken marriages.

Exodus

Indeed, they say that the once close-knit Chosun communities in the Chinese north-east are fast getting depleted of residents as more — including Lee Young-Ryul — clamour to leave and live in the land of their ancestors.

In Yongil village, for instance, there used to be 2,700 students at the primary schools. By the end of 2001, there were just 1,489. At one school there, seven out of 10 students raised their hands when asked which of them had at least one parent in Seoul.

Primary school teacher Jang Soon-Ae also observes, ''When we had a parents' meeting, most of the students came with their grandparents or nursing maids.''

''The Korean dream has shaken out the root of the ethnic Korean community in China that has thrived for the past 100 years,'' remarks Kim Chun, an editor of a local newspaper in the Chinese village of Yonbyon.

''Farmers are leaving their paddies (in China) for South Korea, '' he says. ''Wives are leaving family here for money. Teachers are leaving their students for labour work in Seoul. Even civil servants at Chinese governments are leaving to make a quick buck.''

In truth, if the Chosun workers in South Korea had their way, the exodus would be even greater.

Revised exit and entry law

In December, the Constitutional Court of Korea ruled in their favour and said that a clause practically barring Chosun Koreans from benefiting from the 1999 Act on Exit, Entry and Living Standards of Overseas Koreans was unconstitutional.

The independent court for human rights has also ordered the act revised by the end of 2003.

This law had been aimed at making it easier for ethnic Koreans living overseas to freely enter or exit South Korea and even own land in this country by giving them quasi-legal status as Korean nationals.

But this was applicable only to those who moved abroad after 1948, when the Republic of South Korea was established — and effectively excluded China's Chosun people, as well as 520,000 more ethnic Koreans in Russia.

The court victory of the Chosun workers in South Korea, however, has since been dampened by Beijing's refusal to grant visas to four South Korean lawmakers who had wanted to visit China in order to see for themselves the situation of the ethnic Koreans there.

Dangerous precedent

Apparently, the Chinese government fears that the December 2001 decision could mean that Seoul could now exercise some degree of sovereignty over the Chosun people in China.

Li Bin, the Chinese ambassador to South Korea, has been quoted as saying, ''Chosun people in China are Chinese people in nationality even if they are related to Korea in blood.''

Talks in South Korean diplomatic circles also hint of a Beijing worry that a revision of the act would set a dangerous precedent for the other ethnic groups in China.

Seoul itself is jittery over the prospect of a large influx of ethnic Koreans from China and Russia should the act be changed to accommodate those like the Chosun people. Says a South Korean labour ministry official, ''If only 500,000 of 2.4 million ethnic Koreans in China and Russia are to come to South Korea as workers, that would (still) be chaos in South Korea's labour market.''

Some Chosun people in China have other worries. Park Min-Ja, leader of a women's club in Yanji, says, ''The Chosun community might collapse if it becomes easy to enter and stay in South Korea. If every young man goes to South Korea for higher wages, who will (be left) in our hometown here?''