Cerro de la Mina, Potosi, Bolivia

Potosi this time of year is a freezing cold city at over 4,000 meters above sea level. Winds whip through the narrow colonial streets, and the thick stone walls of the centuries-old buildings act as reverse insulation, making it often colder inside of them than out. In this climate, your hands are cold for days on end, and it´s too frigid to brave the lukewarm hostel showers--at least you don´t really sweat at this altitude.

As is generally the case with cities located in such inhospitable climates, there is a reason why so many people decided to settle here. Once sparsely populated by indigenous Bolivians, when the Spanish discovered the existence of a silver in the surrounding hills during the 16th century, Potosi quickly became home to over 200,000 inhabitants attracted by the promise of wealth in the surrounding silver mines. How convenient for the Spaniards that the indigenous population provided a ready legion of slaves. Once many of the native people had died in the grueling work of the mines, additional slaves were imported from Africa as reinforcements. In all, between 6 and 8 million people died in the silver mines during the colonial era.

Shockingly, working conditions in the mines have changed relatively little since then, and the miners themselves have frequently been the subject of government oppression. Several times in the 20th century, their efforts at labor organization were met with violent rebuttals in which hundreds of miners were killed. One of the more infamous massacres occured in 1967, just before Che Guevara´s attempted revolution in Bolivia. Although today the miners are not openly persecuted, their working conditions are still sub-human and the Bolivian government, which is heavily dependent on the sale of precious metals extracted from the mines, does little to regulate the situation.

I had an opportunity to take a tour down into the working mines themselves which, while not a pleasant experience, is one that I would highly recommend if you ever find yourself within a few hours by bus from Potosi. Koala Tours is the best (and safest) operator in town; it costs 20 bolivianos (3 USD) more than the competition, but you go in smaller groups and are given a better safety helmet and headlamp which, believe me, you will be grateful for when you are hundreds of meters below the earth with nothing but rock above your head, listening to the faint sounds of hammers coming from the remote tunnels snaking out in every direction, and trying not to think about the fatal cave-in that occurred the week before.

My group made it down to the fourth level, although we lost one member who had a justifiable panic attack on the third and had to be taken back above ground. At first the mines are freezing cold but the lower down you go, the hotter it gets--and the less oxygen you have. Temperatures on the lower levels are well over 100 degrees, and at times you are choking on dust while crawling on your stomach through passageways that are less than one meter high. There are tubes throughout many of the tunnels that bring in oxygen from above ground, and their hissing sound as they release small quantities of fresh air becomes very comforting. Although I wore a bandana over my nose and mouth, once I got down to the lower levels there was so little oxygen that I had to remove it and just make peace with breathing in silica dust and other noxious chemicals. On more than one occasion, my yogic breathing came in handy: inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale--and whatever you do, don´t panic.

Whereas I was exposed to these conditions for a mere two hours, there are people for whom this is a daily reality--at least until they die somewhere between the ages of 40 and 50, which is the life expectancy of the miners who aren´t killed by dynamite explosions or cave-ins and who instead perish from silicosis or exposure to other toxic chemicals. Legally, there are 8-hour workdays in the mines. Effectively, however, because the workers sell the raw minerals directly to companies that refine and export them, many of them ¨choose¨ to work much longer hours in the hopes of making more money. And while the minimum legal employment age in the mines is 18, children often start much younger, particularly if they are orphans with no other means of supporting themselves. One man I met started at the age of 14, but we were told that on the lower levels of the mines that non-miners never reach there are children working who are even younger.

One of the most memorable things I saw down there was four men pushing a two-ton cart full of rock. They had to first stoop down and sweep the dust off the wooden tracks so that the cart could pass. Two of the men then pushed the cart from behind. The other two in front used ropes and leaned their entire body weight into it, grunting and sweating to slowly pull the cart forward. This is not the kind of thing that you can bring yourself to take a picture of; it´s not human work.

Seeing daylight again was a definite relief, as was taking the helmet off and wiping the sweat and dust off of my face. In the colonial era, slaves went into the mines in 4 month shifts, sleeping below ground and not seeing daylight during the entire shift; they worked 12 hour days until they died. In our supposely modern times, conditions are not much different, except that the miners live above ground and some manage to eek out a decent living--one claimed to make approximately $2000 USD per month, which is a comparatively excellent salary here.

I was down there for two hours, and although I am very glad I did it, I would not voluntarily do it again. It makes you think twice about buying silver--although were worldwide silver prices to fall, it wouldn´t be the large companies that would feel the brunt of it, but rather the miners themselves, who would be paid less for their load.


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