a trip to hell (or a day in the life)

of a miner in potosi.


potosi is a breath taking city in more ways than one. first of all, with the impressive title of "highest city in the world" (4060m), you might find your lungs working a little overtime. (there goes the guide book language again, i need to stop). but more significantly, in my opinion, is the town's magnificent beauty and how it connects to both a horrific past and a present day realitiy.

silver. minerals. the blood, sweat, and lives of millions of indigenous workers and african slaves that built the town up from the dust into the largest and wealthiest in south america during the end of the 18th century. while present day potosi falls way short of this former title, the work in the mines continues as the city continues to be blessed (or cursed) with an enormous amount of economically significant mineral that has yet to be extracted.

hey, at least working conditions must have improved since back in the day, right guys?

well, not really.

alarmingly medieval conditions, tools, and manual methods of extraction leave the miners of potosi (youngest age around 13) with an average lifespan of 10-15 years once they begin work in their own little sector of hell. they seem to cope by chewing massive amounts of coca leaves, consuming an equally massive amount of 95% potable alcohol (which can conveniently be purchased in the same store as the dynamite and other supplies used for work), and by daily offering and rituals to tio, the devil (or god) of the mines.


in town i found a tour group that was offering tips of explosives, refreshments, and bags of coca leaves in exchange for a one hour venture into the most "accessible" and "ventilated" areas of the mines. i tagged along and emerged from the darkness after what seemed like a full day of stumbling, crawling, climbing, and gasping for fresh air through the bandana wrapped around my face with only a lamp on my hard hat and the miner to guide me.


i was only there for a fraction of a day, barely even exherting myself. these men spend almost every day of their lives pounding and shoveling and hauling pile after pile of rocks from dawn until dusk.

for what? for silver baby. lots of silver.