Mines of Potosi, Bolivia

History is a strange and brutal thing, as anyone who knows anything about life here on earth can attest. After reading several books related to the Spanish conquest of Latin America, I was already well aware of the fact that without the enslavement and forced labor of millions of indigenous Latin Americans from the 1400's on, the history of the world as we know it would have been completely different. This is because if it were not for the millions of tons of gold and silver, along with other metals, that were extracted by the Natives and then shipped to Europe, the entire European economy of the last 500+ years would never have been possible. In fact, if even a small percentage of the precious metals pulled from these lands had been extracted but only in the hands of local people, I dare to speculate that South America, not Europe, could easily have become the world superpower that is now Europe (and the U.S).
That said, I was also aware that the vast majority of the wealth of the Spanish empire was taken from Potosi, here in Bolivia, so there was no way I was going to not go and see this place when I had the chance. It is so crazy to think about it, how important it is, but even more, how tragic the fallout has been for the estimated eight million people who have lost their lives working in these mines.
Anyway, there are loads of tour operators in the town of Potosi, and I couldn't really tell the difference between any of them, so I just picked the one that gave me a deal with my bus ticket out. Luckily for me, the guide was really great. I have never particularly relished the idea of challenging my claustrophobia and good sense by climbing into an extremely dark, cramped, and toxic mine, but I felt like if millions of others have done it then I should at the very least understand what that experience is like. I went with a group of about 12 other people, but we were split into 2 groups when we got to the mines, after suiting up in waterproof galoshes & rain gear, along with hardhats equipped with industrial headlamps.
Only about 10 minutes after pulling away from the town, we arrived at the mouth of the mine, one of thousands riddling the mountains all around the region. Following our leader, an ex-miner himself, we trudged through muddy water into the blackness, where our headlamps illuminated what I recalled to be asbestos crystallized all over the damp walls of the cave, according to the Canadians I had had breakfast with that morning. I tried not to think about it. For awhile I put my scarf over my face to serve as a sort of filter, but you know how when you try to do something and end up doing the opposite? Well, in this case, I kept trying to breathe as slowly as possible but the suffocating atmosphere and fumes made me breathe all the more deeply, inhaling what I've read are dozens of different toxic materials far into my poor, already put-upon lungs (the exhaust fumes down here are sure to have already taken a few years off my life, not to mention the second-hand smoke).
Anyways, almost immediately after we entered, we were quickly advised to get off the main track and all flattened ourselves against the side of the cave walls as two men pushing a trolley full of broken rocks came barreling down the track. Our guide explained that although the cart alone weighs 500 kilos and the rock load 1000, these guys have the "easier" job here in the mines and therefore make less, though still considerably more than the average for Bolivia. For the record, those guys earn somewhere between 2-3000 bolivianos (about $275 US) per month for about 6 hours of work per day; compared to the average minimum wage of 550 bolivianos ($60 US), these guys have it good here. Of course, there's a massive trade off: the average life expectancy for a miner is around 45, and every year between 45 and 60 miners die in accidents- somewhere around 1 per week. The "dangerous" jobs, on the other hand, pay really well:between 5-6,000 bolivianos per month for just 2 to 3 hours per day of work. But these are the guys who are lifting 1500 kg drills and making holes in the cave walls, which will then be stuffed full of dynamite and lit by hand, in order to obtain the chunks of rock that will then be hauled out of the cave and isolated into lead, silver, tin, and zinc. We got to see all of these processes in action, including one stint where we climbed up eight consecutive ladders, all made of ancient, mud-caked wood, many with rungs broken, until we were 50 meters above where we had started, to watch the men put dynamite in the holes. Less than 5 minutes after we had made it back down, we felt the entire mountain shaking with the blasts of the dynamite they had just set off, and I couldn't help envisioning the entire roof caving in on top of us and becoming a tragic statistic in the course of a few minutes. It's not hard to see why they don't really offer "mine tours" in the U.S. Ha ha.
Anyway, we were in there for a total of around 2 1/2 hours, and during that time our guide introduced us to many of the men who worked there, as he handed out the "gifts" we had collectively purchased for them ahead of time: coca leaves, bottles of 96% pure grain alcohol (the label claims it's "comestible")and cheap soda to mix it with, work gloves (which many of the men didn't have an accepted gratefully) and unfiltered cigarettes, not just for the miners but also for The Tio ("Uncle"), or the Devil statue who is believed to be the protector of the miners. We went and visited this bizarre statue, which was still decorated from Carnival with bright paper streamers. All over and around him were strewn cigarettes, coca leaves, confetti and notes of scribbled names and words- a perfect example of how the indigenous people here have, much like the folks in Mexico and Guatemala, integrated their native spiritual beliefs in a seemingly incompatible juxtaposition with the intense Catholicism that is all-pervasive here. Shortly after our visit with the Tio, it was time to go, and I had a long chat with a man who was waiting for his ride as we were waiting for the other group to emerge. This man told me he has worked in the mines for 10 years, and that although he doesn't like it, he has 8 children and this is essentially the only work he could possibly find in this region that would allow him to support a family of that size. I had no idea what to say to him. What could I say? So I asked him about his kids, and learned that the oldest, who is 17, is preparing to go to college and that, at the very least, seemed to make his father feel like maybe his struggles were worth it. This man has literally traded in his life to improve those of his children, as I'm sure he is well aware that he will not live long having been doing this work for such a long time. It was intense. After an awkward goodbye, we were off, us French- Japanese- American- British lucky bastards, piling into the van, each of us undoubtedly feeling humbled and grateful that we would never have to live like that. But sad, too.
The thing that is weird to me is that even though the mines are now cooperatively owned by the miners themselves, there are still very few health or safety precautions in place, and it's not because they don't know the risks. They know all too well what they are doing to their bodies, what they are trading in for that money. I don't know. I hope that someday their work will be less dangerous, that they can find a way to make it a little less deadly to try to make a living. In the meantime, I will continue to try to figure out how I can possibly make this world a more just place, so perhaps in the future, being born in this part of Bolivia doesn't mean your choices are either dire poverty or an early death.