The Potosí silver mines

In our last couple of weeks in Bolivia we stopped in the mining town of Potosí. We were only in Potosí for one day, and we spent it in the silver mines.

The silver mines were found under the Cerro Rico mountain by the Spanish Conquistadors, when they first came to the area. Originally the Conquistadors brought in African slaves to work in the mines; later they used the local indigeous people. The Conquistadors told the mine workers that God had forsaken them, and while they were in the mines they were at the mercy of the Devil. For this reason the miners started worshipping the Devil and they still do to this day. They call him 'Tio', or 'Uncle Miner", and there's a statue of him at the entrance to the mines. It's covered in coca leaves, coloured paper and cigarettes - all offerings from the miners. The miners give him offerings on the first and last Friday of every month; in return they ask for protection and good minerals. Over two million people have died working in the mines.

Our tour guide, Juan, was an ex-miner. He'd worked in the mines for seven years. Juan told us about one incident that had happened when he was working with a friend on the fourth level down, and their job was to stick dynamite in holes in the rock. His friend didn't stick the dynamite down far enough. When the dynamite blew, he lost the entire lower half of his body. They took him to hospital, but there was nothing left of him from the waist down. He died later that day. "The miners live for the now", Juan told us, "because they never know when they might finish".

Before going into the actual mines we stopped at the miners' market to buy 'presents' for the miners. These presents were big bags of coca leaves, cartons of juice, sticks of dynamite and bottles of 97% alcohol. The 97% alcohol was because it was a Friday, and as part of the Friday ceremonies for the Devil where the miners ask for protection, they also (inexplicably) get drunk. The coca leaves and juice were for energy down in the mines. "Miners don't eat in the mines", explained Juan, "So they need to chew coca to keep them strong". It was true - every miner we saw had a massive wad of coca stuffed in his cheek. (At first I thought they all had mumps). We all tried chewing some coca leaves. I have to admit, I wouldn't be able to make it as a miner. The 97% alcohol wasn't too bad but coca leaves made me want to gag. I stood there for a while awkwardly chewing the bitter, gummy wad, trying to jam at all in to the side of my mouth without tasting it. Eventually my mouth went numb and I spat it out when nobody was looking.

Down the mines it was pitch black. We'd been kitted out with long pants, jackets, gumboot, helmets, headlamps and face masks to protect us, but I still felt horribly vulnerable. There was one entry point in and out. Most of the time we had to crouch through the narrow, low tunnels. The tunnels became warmer as we got deeper, which only added to my not-so-irrational fear that we would somehow get trapped in there. We heard dynamite go off below us. The tunnels were full of cloying chemical dust; at a few points the dust was so thick I couldn't take any photos. The dust was the reason we were wearing face masks, even though Juan assured us that one day in the mines wouldn't do us any harm. (For the miners, it does. They commonly die from silicious pneumonia within ten years of entering the mines). It was an unforgettable experience. On the other hand, I have never felt more happy to see sunlight than three hours later when we crawled out, blinking, gasping, sweaty and dust-covered.

Nicola