Mrs. Cho’s two adult sons live and work outside the village. She fears they will not return, but concedes that might be better for them. “My biggest worry is that if they live here they won’t be able to get married,” she said.

It is also difficult to live in the echo chamber of the North Korean broadcasts. For about a decade, the North turned off the music, while governments more friendly to the North were in power in South Korea. But the music started up again about a year ago.

South Koreans go to the polls to elect a new president next month, and the leading contender, Moon Jae-in, has pledged to pursue dialogue with the North.

But Mrs. Cho is not optimistic about politics easing the tense situation on the border outside her home. “I don’t think we are at a point where there will be a solution even if a liberal president gets elected,” she said.

“The North Koreans are our brethren,” she added, glancing out the window toward Kijong. “I think it is very unfortunate that we have to live as enemies.”