In a town called Potosi, at 15,000 feet in elevation, there is a hill called Cerro Rico (Rich Hill). This hill has quite the history with the mining beginning around the time of the Spanish Conquest. It was originally a mine for silver and as time and layers have passed, it is now a mine for some silver but also for minerals such as lead, copper, and zinc.
I had heard the mining situation described as horrendous but also knew there were dozens of tour agencies offering tours in the mines and thus thought it couldn't be THAT terrible. We were careful to find a tour company that gave some of its profits to the mining community as well as had ex-miners as guides. Our research suggested that the miners did not mind tourists since part of the tour included bringing them gifts of drinking water or dynamite.
This is the information we had entering the mine. We also knew that it was a cooperative mine, that is, the workers make profits proportionate to what they extract. They have to buy all their own supplies, including safety equipment. So, with this information, we began our tour.
First, they suited us up with thin plastic boots, thin pants, and a thin shirt. We had a helmet and a strong headlamp. Then we stopped at the "Miner's Market" to buy the miners gifts. We stopped at the refinery to see the chemical process of breaking out the silver and quickly moved on to the mine itself.
Before even entering, a miner stopped us and asked us for help. He wanted us to help move some bags. I could not lift one. I tried with all my might and eventually worked a system where Brendon would lift it onto my back so I could contribute to the transportation of the bags. This miner had dozens of bags in front of him and we helped him with about ten.
We waited as a "train" consisting of small "cars" came out of the mine and then proceeded to walk down the tracks. As we walked in, it immediately got darker and more difficult to breathe. I had my face covered with a handkerchief but it did not stop me from being overwhelmed with the various smells and sensations occurring in my mouth and throat. I can't even describe them because I had never smelt anything like them in my life. I was ducking (or just hitting my head) every ten feet or so due to low hanging wood, much of it split with earth threatening to fall. I tried to ignore the bright colored masses hanging from the beams I was hitting my head on.
Split beam with stuff growing on it.
Our guide stopped to ask us if we wanted to go see something special but said it would be more dusty. I told him we wanted to just do the normal tour as I could feel my body already shifting into alert - flight or fright - mode and I didn't want to prolong the tour.
Apparently, I should have been more clear. The next thing I knew we were watching our guide hoist himself up some dirt wall/random planks and disappear up a wooden shaft. I followed, thankful for the confidence I have in climbing up rocks and walls. As we reached the top of the shaft, I could barely see my guide two feet in front of me and my breathing was labored and I was already sweating. I tried to tell him I didn't like it but he couldn't hear me as the noise had become incomprehensibly fierce from the jackhammer type machine they were using just feet away and above us. Our guide motioned for me to follow but I couldn't. My body was on full alert and was about to "flight" myself right out of that situation. We returned back down the shaft, posting my legs on opposite walls to make my way down so I wouldn't fall down the shaft.
We continued on down to the second level of the mine, once again on the "normal" tour. I never reached such panic again but I never calmed down entirely either. As we worked our way down the hole, we passed several miners on their way out.
It was the first time in Bolivia I wished I didn't understand Spanish as I heard a miner say,
"Yes, we finished for the day so we have the dynamite ready and are about to do our explosions for tomorrow."
WHAT?! While we were in it? Surely our guide must have been mistaken as he continued down the hole that was leading us deeper into the mine. I panicked and quickly asked him why we weren't leaving if they were about to set off dynamite. He assured me it would be fine.
I recited to myself the phrases that kept me moving through the two hour tour:
"The guide wants to live too. He will not lead me to danger."
"You are alive. Stay calm. Breathe."
The hole we were lowering ourselves down is something that I would normally find in sync with my love of adrenaline. We were carefully planting our feet on knobs, sliding down rock here or there, crawling our way horizontally to the next spot large enough to stand. And yet, in this situation, it was not a fun caving adventure but instead, with the smells I have never smelt before and can not begin to describe, with the men climbing up the mine hole as we headed down, with the knowledge of so much earth above me and explosions about to go off, with the constant thought "these men work here"--- I had this haunting feeling I was in some people's living hell.
Miner telling our guide about dynamite.
We reached the third and final floor. We trudged through bright green and orange colored water. We walked deeper back to unbelievably HOT parts of the mine, thanking God when those miners said they had already done the explosions for the day. We visited some men still working. Talked to a father and son taking a break to chew coca leaves. Paid homage to "el tio" or the uncle that is the "underworld god" they pay homage to and make offerings to keep them safe.
We worked our way back out of the mine. Light. Breeze. And finally, fresh air and sun. Thank God to be alive - you can be sure I did.
That night after showers, breathing, wine, and a bit of food...Brendon and I found ourselves asking so many questions that clearly neither one of us could answer. They started with ... Why? How? Why not? Who? What if? And on and on. Some of these questions I had before even entering the mine, many came through the experience. But at the end of the tour, as the guide sat us down in the hot third floor to give us the history lesson of the mine, or as we sat with the father and son with an incredible opportunity to ask questions - I was frozen. I was stunned into silence. My mind was not blank but it was not able to focus on questions.
So, I do not have lots of answers for you. I do not have lots of facts. I certainly still have a lot of questions.
I can tell you that these men work there anywhere from 5-7 days a week from 6-10 hour shifts. Boys as young as 10 to men that had been working there 27 years already. They do not eat as they are not allowed to go #2 inside the mine plus their food would quickly be contaminated. Most do not wear any type of face mask as it makes it more difficult to breathe in the already hot and dusty conditions. When asked if there is something they could change, the first answer is to have an opportunity to make a living somewhere else. The second answer, to have the technology to make it safer and easier to work there.
Brendon; calmer, civil engineer, been inside a US mine - may someday share some more information, more facts, a different perspective with you. But for me. I am just so glad to be alive. And grateful for minor struggles at work, fresh air, light, eating, health, choice.
Oh my goodness~! This sounds like quite the adventure. I had actually read an article somewhere about the mines in Bolivia recently. I remember it focused on the horrible conditions and on the festival to honor the gods of the underground. El tio is a pretty interesting part of the culture. The mine in this article had a very violent,demonic looking statue of the god deep in its depths.
ReplyDeleteI can only imagine that crazy experience and the questions that it raises. A blessing for sure to have the choice~