“The mines are not for women”
I arrived in Potosí at 7am, a little late, which I welcomed since it would give things a chance to warm up a bit. My taxi driver gave me a nice tour of the city on the way to the hotel. It’s a cute city planted in the middle of barren mountains. Potosí is a colonial town existing purely due to the presence of the Cerro Rico, or Rich Hill that was discovered in the 16th century to contain large amounts of silver. Back then, it was one of the largest and richest towns in the Americas. Obviously, this is not true today; the town still only exists due to the mines, but unfortunately there is hardly anything left. The reason I came to Potosí was to take a tour to the mines, where you enter not in a little touristy area, but right down where they’re working.
When I got to the hotel, I contemplated taking a shower, but it was just too damn cold. My thermometer was clocking 50 degrees in my room and I was no way gong to get naked and throw water on myself. Hot showers exist here, but still, no heating. Instead I walked around town in the sun, setting up a mine tour for the next day.
I went to some convent in town to check it out and, while old religious artifacts rarely interest me, I did learn some interesting things there. When a woman entered the convent, she was required to cut her hair. The hair was used for statues, I think mostly of the virgin Mary. I saw some of these statues and, yep, sure enough, there was real hair on them. One statue of Jesus actually had real human hair. Weird. So these nuns, of course, were kept inside the convent for life and were never allowed to leave. They dedicated much of their time to making elaborate clothes for statues (again, mostly for the virgin Mary), which were all on display. Some of these statues are used for religious processions through the street – they are the star of the show.
In the afternoon I went to the Casa de Moneda, or the House of Money, which was where they used to make coins from all the materials being extracted from Cerro Rico. Today it’s a museum holding a motley collection of relics from Bolivia, from mummys to religious artifacts to giant armadillo shells to the actual tools used to make the money. The place was interesting enough, but no where near the “gem of a museum” that I had read it was.
Checking my email later that evening, I got an email from Jill saying she had seen something about hotels bombings in La Paz and just wanted to make sure I was alright. I searched long and hard for any information about this and finally found out that some crazy American and his Uruguayan girlfriend had detonated two bombs in La Paz, just a few hours after I left. Apparently, one of the hotels was the next block over from where I was staying; the other one was across from the bus station. Apparently this couple had already tried blowing up an ATM in Argentina and were passing out calendars in La Paz with a naked picture of the woman, promoting the sale and exportation of explosives, fireworks, and liquor – a fabulous combination, indeed. They had a PO Box in Potosí, which is where I was now.
I returned back to my hotel at about 7pm. It was cold and rainy outside, cold inside, and I had no interest to do anything except get warm. With not too many options, I got myself under the covers and just went to sleep.
There were 7 of us in the tour to the mines; only one was a guy. We were first taken to someone’s house to put on some protective clothing, rubber boots, and helmets with headlamp. They told us it gets cold in the mines, so I took off my 3 long-sleeve shirts and went with only a tank top under the jacket they gave me, though I was cold until we actually got to the mines.
We then went to the Miner’s Market, where the miners buy their supplies for the mines. Here our guide, Efra, started to tell us about the mines and its workers. After all is said and done, these days the miners each make about $5 a day. The mine is run by a cooperative and the miners form groups who work together (mostly families). The groups work together and save what they make, processing tons and tons (literally) of rock per day. Only about 15% of the processed rock is actual mineral…I think a combination of silver, zinc, and copper (but I honestly can’t remember exactly). A lot of kids start the mines when they’re young – 11 or 12 sometimes. It’s illegal in Bolivia, but no one says or does anything about it.
We were in the market to buy gifts to bring to the miners. Efra (who used to be a miner himself…the rest of his brothers still are; his dad retired) explained to us what good gifts are. Frist off, sodas, because they get thirsty working down there in the hot dusty space. Second, dynomite, so they can blow up the rock. It’s all volcanic rock here, which is very hard, so the more dynomite the better, which is what I was thinking. I was particularly excited about the dynomite.
Dynomite is readily available on the streets, and anyone can buy it. (Hmm…where might the crazy American with the PO Box in Potosí get his explosives from?) Efra explained to us how the dynomite works. Dynomite, by itself, is not explosive. He demonstrated this to us by holding up a stick of dynomite to his mouth and trying to light it like a cigar. Naturally, we all took a step back as he did this (as if that would put us at a safe distance, did it really explode). The dynomite needs a catalyst, which comes at the end of the wick, which needs to be installed. Then there’s this other stuff that looks like small styrofoam balls that’s added to the mix for extra power.
Another great gift is coca leaves. The miners chew a whole bag of coca a day, about 30 grams, which I happen to know is just over one ounce. Coca suppresses their appetite, which is very important in the mines, because the miners don’t eat while in the mines to avoid digestive problems. Sometimes the miners are in the mines up to 24 hours or more at one time without eating. Other common gifts are cigarettes and alcohol, but Efra discouraged us from bringing those. Nearly all miners die early due to silicosis of the lungs (due to breathing in so much dust), so obviously cigarettes aren’t a good idea. And, while the miners sometimes drink alcohol in the mines, accidents can happen, so it is discouraged.
We each bought a little package of gifts for the miners – a bottle of soda, a dynomite-making kit, and a bag of coca. We also bought two extra dynomite-making kits to blow up on our own. I was totally excited about that.
Before heading to the mines we stopped shortly at a private company where they seperate the minerals from the rock. Back in the day, mercury was used, but, well, for obvious reasons, that was stopped. Today they use three chemicals (one of which is cyonide, which contributes nicely to pollution). The rocks are crushed to a fine powder and the chemicals are added, causing the minerals to float to the top in a foam. The foam is skimmed off and rinsed with water to collect the minerals. They then ship out this mix of the minerals to other countries that have the capability to seperate them.
Eventually we went into the mine. I went last Very soon after entering the mine, as I looked behind me, I could see that all natural light was gone. If it wasn’t for our headlamps, it would be pitch black. It took some getting used to the light from the headlamp…just a circle of light in front of you, nothing more. Talk about tunnel vision.
We stopped briefly in a little museum that was set up (the only real touristy part of it), which was in an old mining hole (for lack of a better word). Inside was a statue of El Tio, or The Uncle, a devilish god to whom the miners offer liquor, cigarettes, coca, and money. He had devil’s horns and a large, erect penis.
We moved from the museum to deeper in the mine. The tunnelway was at times very short and just wide enough for the trolleys carrying rock to pass through along the track. There is no modern technology here…everything is carried out by trolleys that you think of when you think of mines. About the best in technology they have here are pneumatic drills, which create the need for hoses of compressed air to be hung through the network of passageways. As we continued on, the air we were breathing got increasingly dustier.
We stopped at wide area to move out of the way of some trolleys coming through. Each trolley contained 1 ton of rock and were pushed by two guys. These guys were something like 15 years old and were running these things along the track – incredible. We also met an older man here – 48, I think, and his 15 year-old son. The man had already been here 30 years, and we asked him how much longer he thought he would work here. “Until I die” was his reply. He and his family can’t really afford for him not to work. Unfortunately, the mine will be his death, in one way or another.
As these people continued on working, the members of our group started to complain about the dust. “Dust? What is this?” Efra asked. He of course knew what everyone was talking about but was making a point that the dust here was nothing; it was fresh air for the miners. In other parts, particularly when they’re drilling, they can’t see someone 3 feet in front of them.
We continued along and then started crawling down some shaft to one level below. It was very small…we were all crouching way low and going slow. The miners, on the other hand, run through these tunnels like mice, they told us. We entered a little room where a group of miners was working. They showed us where they make holes in the rock for the dynomite, and we could see the mineral veins running through the rock (they look like little silvery lines). The dust was thicker, and there was no respite from it.
After a while, we climbed down another shaft to the next level down. Surprisingly, the air was fresher down there…apparently this area opened up to another mine, and the entrance was close. We saw some more miners pass with trolleys – these trolleys were bigger, carrying 2 tons of rock. One of the miners stopped to talk to us and, as he left, he flexed his muscles for the mostly-female group.
One thing is for sure – these are men. Their stature is small, but they are super stong. They spend their days working hard, getting dirty and smelly. When they drink, they only drink pure liquor (which I have seen sold throughout Bolivia). The superstition is that if they drink diluted alcohol, they’ll find diluted minerals; if they drink pure alcohol, they’ll find pure mineral deposits. So, they like their liquor hard and their women, well, at home. “The mines are not for women,” Efra explained. Only men work in the mines. They’re ok with tourists there because it’s only for a day and they recognize there’s a difference in cultures. However, women do not work in the mines.
At this point, Efra confirmed my suspicions that to the miners, he is a bit of a girly-man. He quit the mines to take his nice cushy job of just bringing tourists down. Our assistant guide, Oscar, did the same thing. He asked Efra how he could be a guide because he hated working in the mines. He was now studying English and training to be a guide.
We moved into another work area where one man was shoveling rocks from one pile to another and a second man was shoveling the rocks into a large rubber container that, when full, would be dragged up by pulley to a higher level to be removed from the mine for processing. Just as the man finishd shoveling the pile of rocks, in came a large trolley, dumping another 2 tons of rock in the same place.
Efra handed us a shovel and told us to get to work – 10 shovels each. It was hard work just doing 10 shovels-worth. I can’t imagine doing it all day, though I did feel better helping them rather than just watching them work.
We climbed through some more tunnels and came to a spot where we could hear a loud drill. We were back to the first work site we had visited and now went in to see the drill in action. I was the first one in the space and, well, you couldn’t see anything – the dust was amazingly thick. Not only could I not see, but breathing this stuff was awful, so I made for the door. It was now blocked by other onlookers, telling me to shine my light up toward the workers so we could see them. “You can’t see anything and I just want some fresh air.” We must have looked funny to those miners, though, who probably just saw 7 headlamps poking out from a hole, looking their way.
Out in the corridor the air was very fresh, though take note that this is the initial dusty air everyone was complaining about. We talked with one of the drillers for a bit, who came out from his space, and I was relieved to see that he wears a mask while drilling.
The cool fresh air and natural light was very welcome as we exited the mine. We had been down there for nearly 3 hours – a great value tour for $10! I had been so intrigued with what I was witnessing down there that I had completely forgot about our dynomite demonstration. How could I have forgotten about blowing up dynomite?! Incredible.
Our guides went to work making the little bombs, showing us along the way (I can proudly now add this to my repertoire of things I know how to do). As they lit the wick, I jumped back a little, kind of like when you’re lighting off fireworks. However, these wicks are a little more robust than those on your average bottlerockets. These wicks give you one minute until it blows.
The guides (slowly) ran the bombs over to a safe distance and then started to walk back. Hurry! You’ve only got a minute! A minute seems like a very short time when you’re dealing with dynomite. We all stood with our cameras ready. I thought I was prepared but I still jumped when the first one went off. Somehow I still managed to get a picture in, though as you’ll see (Shutterfly link on the right), it’s all blurry and off-center. When the second one went off, I hardly even noticed; my heart was still all aflutter from the first one. Yay! Dynomite!
Tags: Bolivia, Tag Index
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