Potosi, Bolivia

Early the following day, Juan P picked us up from our hostal and we began our 3 our ride to Portosi. It was a long stretch as we wound our way up the barren hills to 4000m once again. Tom brought out the cards half way through the trip and Dad, Tom Juan P and I played everything from Liar to something called Sluts and Masters (I think it could do with a new name). Juan P also taught us a new game called Dirty Underwear. Great fun with satisfying results if you´re not the loser, which I usually was. Juan P was also playing courier this trip, bringing some clothes from his place in Sucre to his grandmother, so he was looking forward to seeing his family there.

We settled into our hostal, a cute little with spanish influence in its courtyards. Once settled, we had a quick lunch and wandered through the streets. Once again being at 4000m we found ourselves out of breath, so we didn´t wander too far. We were collected by Juan P at 3pm for a tour of the city´s mint.

Portesi is a mining city. For a long time now it has been mining minerals such as silver and tin from a nearby mountain. On the tour we were told that when the spanish invaded, they exploited the natives terribly desipite orders from Spain to pay the workers. Often times groups of miners would be send hundreds of metres into the mines with only one candle for their 20 hour shift. Over 8 million people have died in these mines.

During the Spanish rule, so much silver, tin and copper was mined that Portesi established its city mint and was responsible for the processing of all currency for Bolivia, Argentina and Peru as well as Spain. Coins were measured based on weight for a long time, although the spanish set moulds in the late 1700s. The machinery in the mint was original and incredible. Huge wheels pulled by donkeys were used to flatten and process the silver and many coins were branded by hand with a hammer. In its hayday, over 1000 coins were produces per day. The working conditions must have been horrific... and these guys weren´t even in the mines. After the tour, we had a quick meal and headed to bed. The altitude had taken its toll.

The next morning we were picked up early for our tour of the working mine today. In addition to Juan P we had Issac, a local and former miner as guide. Before heading to the mine we stopped at the miners markets. Its traditional to bring the miners gifts, as well as gifts of offering for pecha muma. Tradtitional gift include coca leaves which the miners chew. It releases a toxin which surpressed appetite, allowing the miners to work for longer. The are dried green leaves, but the longer and more of then you chew, the blacker they and your teeth get. Issac was a fan. We left him to it.

Other common gifts included cigarettes (without filters), 95% alcohol stored in small plastic bottles, frescas (giant bottles of soft drink) and dynamite and fuses. Yes, dynamite. Without these things, you can be forbidden entry into the mines, plus it helps the miners tolerate interruption (not that many people get deeps enough to run into them).

Once we had our goods, we headed to a house to get adorned with the requisite waterproofs, gumboots, helmates and light packs. I have to say, we were all looking quite spiffy.

One the way to the mines we were told that despite the incredible dangerous conditions in which the miners work, their pay was not fantastic. Cave-ins were quite frequent, hours were ridiculously long but they usually had large families (5 children plus). However, if a miner is killed at his work, there is no compenstion for the family. Wives and children are left on their own, although sometimes other work mates do what they can to help. But given that the pay is so bad, it´s not usually much. As a result, we were told to expect to see women and children at the mines. They scrounge through the leftover mining deposits, looking for bits of silver, tin and copper that they can sell. When we arrived at the mine, we saw the state of things. Issac had brought a bag of coca leaves and a small bottle of alcohol for one of the widows. She was old, thin and must have been living around this mine for many, many years. It was heart-breaking. Other kids came running up to us trying to sell a few rocks and things.


We made our way down to the mines entrance. To be honest, it didn´t look like anywhere I wanted to be going. Oxygent and electricity pipes stretched into the hole in the wall and the entrance really didn´t look big enough to accommodate us. We handed out a few bags of coca leaves and bottles of soft drink to some of the tooth-less minders outside. Too many years of coca leaves and sweet drinks had certainly taken their toll. Finally Issac led us into the mine followed by Tom, Mum, Dad and myself with Juan P bringing up the rear.

It was dark, cold and wet inside. After struggling through uneven ground, puddles and over cart tracks we arrived a small inlet. We were perhaps 100 metres inside the mine. Issac couldn´t be more precise as their wasn´t actually any maps of the mines themselves. Things changed all the time, he told us, so they didn´t bother.

In this inlet was a mud carved idol. It was covered in colourful streamers and coca leaves, surrounded by empty grog bottles and holding an old cigarette in its mouth.

The idol represented Pecha Muma and was there in honour of mother earth. Offerings surrounded the idol and Issac took us through the ceramony. At lease once a month and more often during festival times, the miners would offer the leaves, alcohol and colours in thanks for the use of the mountain and to ask for good mineral findings. Everything the miners had/did they shared with the idol, including the coca leaves, alcohol and ciggies. Issac demonstrated by offering coca leaves, sprinkling the 95% grog over the idol and then sipping some himself. It was very important to show satifaction when drinking the alcohol lest you displease pecha muma.

He asked if any of us wanted to offer the alcohol, Tom, Juan P and Dad jumped in. Through the burning in their throats they all pulled convincing if wincing smiles. Issac then lit a cigarette (100m within a mine) and after a few puffs placed the ciggie in the idols mouth. And we watched as it happily sat there smoking.

Isacc led us further into the mine and Juan P told us about a school trip he´d once taken here with his classmates. They had got so deep into the mine (which involved crawling on their stomachs through cracks in the rock at times) that they had run into miners working in their underwear. Although it was cold where we were, the deeper you got, the hotter it was. These guys were also happily smoking that deep within the mine.

As we made our way deeper (possibly at 300 metres now, the blackness of our surroundings and the density of the rock began to have an oppressive feel. It was dead silent. Each step took us further and we passed many bends and interesections and the lack of a map really started to bother me. We were passed by a couple of female miners on their way out after a shift. Isacc was a little suprised to see them as women aren´t generally allowed to work in the mines. Its believed that they will make pecha muma jealous. However, of the women that did work there, they were often widows of other miners, so some believed that this made their presence ok. regardless, the presence of women working in the mines was only a very recent thing.

Further down we were told to quickly move off the path. We stood under a shaky looking structure and waited to find out what was happening. A few moments later four miners appeared pushing a cart containing a tonne of rock and dirt. They stopped briefly to accept some fresca and coca leaves and told us they were coming off a 16 hour shift. The all looked stuffed. A moment later another miner appeared behind us hauling a hugs wheelbarrow full of rock. Head looked haggard and hot. We offloaded the last of our frescas with him.

Further on we took a path to the left, then one to the right, then another to the left (yep... no map). We ducked left into a small alcove and there was yet another offering area. We saat down on the ground and Issac told us about the history of the mine, the oppression of the natives and about the real life of a miner. He told us about being struck in the mines without light. The light pack only last about 12 hours. If its an older pack, it can last for just 8. The rule is that if you run out of light, you must wait for another miner to find you. At this point Issac turned off all our lights. And it was black. It was silent, and despite sitting right next to both Mum and Dad, it was terrifying. There was nothingness. Closing my eyes seemed to help, but when Issac mentioned that some miners had been stuck by themselves for 48 hours, I began to feel really uncomfortable.

Fortunately for us 5 minutes was enough and we headed out of our alcove with light blarring and down some other tunnel. I was really being led blind by this time. I had no idea which was was out or which way we´d come from. I can safely say that this would never be preferred career choice.

Somehow we made our way out of the black hole into the sunlight once more. I love the sky. Dad was a little slower out the hole with one boot leaking. It was an incredible expereince but one I´m happy not to repeat.

We dossed down and jumped back on the bus to head back to Sucre.