8
Next destination, Potosi, was a crazy bus ride away from Tarija. I couldn’t believe how many gravestones lined the side of the road on that journey. For breakfast, I bought five salteñas from a woman on the side of the road, during one of the many bathroom breaks, where everyone piles out of the bus and finds a spot in the bushes. I guess my stomach was still weak from the food poisoning a couple of days before, because I spent the next eight hours trying to keep from throwing up said salteñas, battling the continuous cramps. That was not a fun ride for me.
When I arrived in Potosi, one of the highest cities in the world, I jumped in a micro heading to the centre of town. The people on the bus were so friendly, but I was having such a hard time keeping a smile on my face, due to my discomfort. It was with huge relief when I finally made it to The Koala Den, and was able to lay down horizontally.
I basically didn’t move from there for three days – I was in rough shape.
Potosi is an interesting city. At 4100 meters, it has a feel to it all on its own. There are beautiful colonial buildings all over the place – at one point in history, it was the richest city in the world, and one of the largest, all because of the huge silver mines nearby. Like all mines, it seems, this mine has a very dark history. Over the last 500 years, over 8 million people have died in those mines. Staggering. Imported slaves from Africa, indigenous people, fortune seekers. For centuries, the silver bankrolled the Spanish empire. I must admit, the more I read and see what the Spanish have done here, the more angry I get of the injustice of it all. I’ve never been political before – travelling around South America is changing that. So much bullshit and manipulation exists down here, due to the Western powers pillaging the resources at the expense of the local population, all to maintain our lifestyles. It’s disgusting.
As part of my Potosi experience, I felt like I needed to check out said mines. I had mixed feelings about that – I hate being a tourist in those situations, observing what others have to go through just to survive. Meanwhile, tourists head into the mines for pleasure, not because they have to. But I felt like I needed to see it – to see where our silver actually comes from.
We started off in the miners market, where we bought gifts for the miners – 97% alcohol, juice, water, coca leaves, dynamite. Next stop, the refinery, where workers separate the silver from the ore, over open vats of chemicals. There are no masks, although many wrap their faces in handkerchiefs, to protect their lungs. I had a headache within minutes. And then it was time for the mine.
We entered in through a hole in the side of the mountain, covered head to toe in overalls, rubber boots, and mining helmets with lanterns. For the first 30 minutes, we made our way from the first level all the way to the fourth, once in awhile sliding forwards on our stomachs, or climbing down steep shafts. Often, we had to quickly jump to whatever tiny alcove we could find, to avoid a trolley full of ore thundering by, pushed by two or three shirtless men.
The conditions down there were horrendous. By the time we got to the fourth level, the temperature was around 40C, and the air was full of poisonous arsenic and dust. Due to the high altitude, bad air, and temperature, it was very difficult to breathe – almost painful. A few times, I helped the miners out by shovelling ore into a trolley, to give them a break and because I couldn’t just stand around and watch them work. Wow, working in those conditions is bloody difficult. And some of those guys work 22 hour shifts, chewing coca leaves to get them through the long, difficult hours.
So, the next time you’re buying some silver, just take a second and think about those miners. You might just change your mind!
