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Remains of a silver empire
By DAVID ROSENFELD POTOSI, Bolivia -- We wore hideous yellow slick suits and clumsy rubber boots, and in our hands we carried dynamite, coca leaves, pure alcohol and, to light the way, calcium carbide torches that gave off small, sharp flames. When we entered the mine, a blast from a nearby shaft shook the ground.
I followed our guide, Marianela, and her assistant, a 12-year-old boy. "Watch your head," were the only English words the boy knew; he repeated them for good reason. Marianela called out into pitch darkness, down a narrow passage, and a voice answered back in Quechua, a form of Spanish spoken by Indian people in a wide region of South America. Our light revealed the scene as we approached: The speaker was an old man, his worn jeans riddled with patches, his jacket torn at the seams, his skin dirty and worn. He was sitting with his lamp turned off, in what had been darkness. We learned that his name was Simon, and he was chewing coca leaves to stave off hunger. One after another he popped the leaves into his mouth like candy, cheeks puffed out like a baseball player with a big wad of tobacco. When we offered him water, he didn't drink it but used it to refill his torch, which worked like ours: Water dripping onto carbide pellets creates acetylene gas, which is ignited and gives off a bright light. He accepted our dynamite, coca and some cigarettes as a gift. And while Simon smoked and chewed, we tourists gawked and snapped pictures. Potosi, a colonial hamlet that once boomed in this desolate Bolivian highland, is renowned for its superlatives: It has the largest deposit of silver the world has known. It is said to have financed the Spanish empire for centuries, with what was then the biggest industrial complex in the world. In the 17th century, Potosi was the most populous city in the Western Hemisphere. It is still considered the world's highest city, at 13,789 feet, with a population of about 123,000.
The colonial industry brought great buildings and artwork, and in 1987 UNESCO declared Potosi a World Heritage Site for its cultural, industrial and historic legacy.
An enormous tollBut Spanish rule also spawned some of the worst human rights abuse of Europe's colonial era. Working conditions have changed only slightly since the 16th century. Over that time, an estimated 8-million-plus African slaves and South American workers have died in the silver mines. Today, the notorious hill, called Pachumama by the natives and Cerro Rico by the Spanish, supports 500 mines. Intertwined as if part of an ant colony, about 5,000 shafts follow the veins of minerals, these days mostly zinc and tin, occasionally silver. Dynamite blasts are set off every day, loosening more ore-bearing rock. The miners pound chisels into the granite walls six days a week. They routinely carry 150-pound bags of gravel thus knocked loose through the mine corridors. For this they get about 12 cents a bag. On a good day, a miner can take out 40 bags, earning about $5. The miners have accidents, and they fall down the vertical shafts. They die of lung disease. Unlike the millions of workers that came before them, today's miners have a choice to leave. Yet a reported 6,000 choose to make their living in these conditions. After a nationalized mine system in Bolivia proved disastrous and the world market for tin had nearly collapsed, the government decided in the 1980s to allow the mines at Potosi to become private ventures. Today, 200 mines are operated by Comsur Co., which was formerly owned by Bolivian President Gonzalo Sanchez de Lozado. He relinquished control of the corporation shortly before being elected in August.
Though their pay is fixed, miners for Comsur work in better conditions and have more safeguards than and superior equipment to their co-operative colleagues. The thousands of miners in the 300 co-op mines work on commission from local bosses and can personally purchase a section of mine, laying claim to their own ore.
No other worldBefore heading to the San Juan co-operative with Andes Expeditions tours, we stopped at the miners market to buy supplies. There were picks, shovels, helmets, boots, lamps and everything else a miner needs. We bought sticks of dynamite, fuses, a big sack of coca leaves, cigarettes without filters and pure grain alcohol, called puro, a miners' favorite. These would be gifts to the workers. Beyond the smorgasbord of miners' necessities, a man on the street corner leaned against a building and coughed up blood and phlegm, a sure sign of silicosis, a fatal lung poisoning caused from overexposure to dust particles. At the base of the massive hill, women worked in the hot sun to separate zinc from the rock brought out of the mines. One woman told us she was 62 and had been identifying minerals from piles of rock for 22 years. Her teeth were rotten and stained from chewing coca leaves during the day. She gathered her dress to make a pouch, and I filled it with some of the leaves we had bought at the miners store.
Our tour group got in a four-wheel-drive vehicle that climbed the mining hill to the entrance of the San Juan co-operative.
At times during Spanish rule, miners were forced to work up to six months without seeing daylight. In a quest to gain further control over the slaves, the Spanish created a god of the underworld they named El Tio (the uncle). Miners were told to revere this devilish-looking deity instead of Jesus Christ, whom the Spanish had formerly directed them to worship. Every day, when entering the mine, workers gave an offering to El Tio -- coca leaves, tobacco, puro -- hoping for protection and safety in exchange. Today, every mine has at least one Dio molesto, a nickname meaning "bothered God." We came upon one of the sculptures, with a devilish face and an erect penis. Our guide, Marianela, put a lit cigarette in its mouth, poured puro on the penis and sprinkled coca leaves at its feet. Then we each took a sip of the clear liquor. Down the way from El Tio, we met Miguel, a 57-year-old father of four. He was pounding on a large chisel to make a hole for a stick of dynamite. He wiped sweat from his brow as he turned around to see who was approaching. Marianela addressed him in Quechua; as with most of the older miners, it is the only language Miguel speaks. "I'm tired," he said. "It's very hard work."
Miguel arrived at work at 5 a.m., he said through Marianela, and puts in about eight hours a day, including Saturday, and four hours on Sunday. He had been a miner for 37 years but said his health would force him to quit within a couple of years. "That's enough," he said and smiled. After the four-hour tour, Marianela and I were walking back to the agency office. I told her that the experience had left me drained and depressed. I couldn't imagine facing that reality every day. It would be a living hell. "For me, I don't understand why they do it," she said. "Mainly, it's tradition, and they don't know what else to do.
"I think for the people here, money is not such an important thing. It's more important to be happy." If you go
GETTING THERE: American Airlines offers daily service from Miami to La Paz. From La Paz, take the bus line that goes through Sucre. The road from Oruro to Potosi through Challapata on the west is rough; the route through Sucre is paved and takes the same amount of time. Potosi is about 100 miles west of Sucre. Be mindful of your bags near the bus terminal. A young woman I was traveling with had her bag stolen, I had my camera stolen, and I heard horror stories from other travelers about the same location. STAYING THERE: It is necessary to stay overnight in Potosi if you plan to take one of these tours, which leave about 9 a.m., because Sucre is the next-nearest. Choose a hotel near the center of town, as the steep hills combined with the high altitude make walking around arduous. A variety of budget hotel options range from $2.50 per person to $6 per night. Recommendations are Residencial Felcar and, next door, Hotel Copacabana. There are also midrange hotel options, with prices about $15 for a double. The recommended Hostal Compania de Jesus occupies an old monastery. For reservations at the midrange Hostal Jerusalen, e-mail hoteljer@cedro.pts.entelnet.bo. The most expensive option is Hostal Colonial, a four-star accommodation at $43 for a double. A dated Web site that offers a starting-point list of accommodations is at www.boliviaweb.com/hotels/potosi.htm. TAKING A TOUR: Take with you aspirin, as an antidote to altitude sickness, and warm clothes. About a dozen tour agencies, listed in most guidebooks, take people into the mines. I used Andes Expeditions. Most of these agencies have offices around the main Plaza de Noviembre. It is easy enough to book a trip in Potosi, and reservations are probably not necessary. I booked mine the morning before the tour. Shop around to ensure that the agency provides slick suits and boots, so your clothes don't get messy. All the tour operators also should provide helmets. Some use battery-powered headlamps, but for authenticity, choose an operator that uses calcium carbide torches, a method used by miners since the 19th century. Each company tours a different mine, for varying lengths of time, and some tour operators guarantee that a dynamite explosion will occur while you are in the mine. The cost of the tour is about $10, plus gifts to the miners and a tip for your guide. -- David Rosenfeld is a freelance writer who lives in Redondo Beach, Calif.
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From the Times Travel page
From the AP |
Before you read further: If you are claustrophobic or afraid of the dark, these mine tours are not for you.
