So 2 days ago, 24 October 2006, I entered hell. Literally. I even sat by the devil..
I had been looking foward to being shocked by a tour into the mines for months. And I can tell you right now, I was shocked. Seriously so.
The tour started nicely, getting given overalls and helmets etc. We visited the ´miners market´and bought some coca leaves as present for the miners. We also bought some dynamite.(!) More on that later.. We then proceeded to the seperation plant where the good minerals are removed. It stunk of noxious chemicals. At least the workers were in the sun though.
It was time to go in.
Without bragging (or the opposite) I can say I have visited some genuine shitholes around the world, and seen some bloody awful conditions for work, or life in general. While I am still sticking to my earlier assertions about Bolivia being more develeoped than say, Eastern Indonesia, the life the miners endure here is just unbelievable.
As I mentioned in my last post, most miners are dead within 15 years from the silica dust they inhale building up in their lungs. And most of them start when they are only 13. What a way to grow up...
We went in wearing masks, and even these werent enough. Luckily I had a bandanna in my pocket, and using that with the mask was bearable.. just. The miners themselves dont wear any cos they are doing such physical work and get too hot. Me, personaly.. I prefer hot over dead, but as our guide told us, these guys dont bother to look further ahead than dinner that night. They have nothing to look foward to.
The tunnels themselves were tiny. We were crawling a lot of the way. When it was time to descend or ascend a level it was sliding and scuffling time. I watched in horror as two 14 year old boys repeatedly crawled up and down one of these sloped areas carrying 40kg sacks of ore on their backs. Ascending was actualy the hardest part for us too. Involving more excertion, and still at 4,000m ASL we were sweating like beasts. Not nice.
Most of the photos I took didnt come out well, cos the massive ammounts of dust reflected the flash. This again reminded me how grim it was down here.
The miners cope by crewing HUGE wads of coca all day long, which gives them energy and fends off hunger. I certainly chewed my fair share today, but it didnt help that much.
The locals are mostly catholics here. They reason that as God is above, then the devil lives underground. In keeping with this concept they had made a statue of the devil, and regularly gave it offerings. I sat next to the devil, but offered him nothing. We were at the end of the trip at that point, and I just wanted out. An offering might have been misinterpreted as wanting more... no thanks
Once out I realised oince again just how lucky I (and indeed you reading this) really are. It makes me feel embarrassed, literaly, that we piss and moan about trivial bullshit like there not being enough sugar in our latte´s, when others have to deal with this.
And what is their reward? Apart from early graves, the miners usualy make around 1500 Bols per month. Thats less than $300 NZ per month. And get this, thats considered good money over here. Hence 14,000 miners doing this 8 hours a day.
The finale of the tour was nice at least. Once we had regained our senses, we got to
set off some dynamite, which we had purchased at the market earlier. ($3NZ for stick, fuse and accellarant, anyone can buy it-cool.) After unwrapping it (it looks like green play dough), rewrapping it with the accelerant,and setting the fuse, the matches came out. Having a stick of lit dynamite in your hand is quite an experience. One of the other travellers freaked out and threw his like a grenade. This pissed the miners off, as one of them had to go and fetch it, cos he´s thrown it somewhere sensitive! It was still lit of course...
I placed mine where directed, then we ran away... real fast. And the bang was pretty loud. I took a video clip of all this, but the file is too big to attach to this blog.
Being driven back to town I reflected on what IU´d just experienced, and decided I needed a beer. The bus driver obviously thought the same thing, and picked up a glass from a couple of lads selling on the street side. He drank as he drove, not seeming to notice the looks he was getting from all the foreign passengers.
Only in Bolivia...
I had been looking foward to being shocked by a tour into the mines for months. And I can tell you right now, I was shocked. Seriously so.
The tour started nicely, getting given overalls and helmets etc. We visited the ´miners market´and bought some coca leaves as present for the miners. We also bought some dynamite.(!) More on that later.. We then proceeded to the seperation plant where the good minerals are removed. It stunk of noxious chemicals. At least the workers were in the sun though.
It was time to go in.
Without bragging (or the opposite) I can say I have visited some genuine shitholes around the world, and seen some bloody awful conditions for work, or life in general. While I am still sticking to my earlier assertions about Bolivia being more develeoped than say, Eastern Indonesia, the life the miners endure here is just unbelievable.
As I mentioned in my last post, most miners are dead within 15 years from the silica dust they inhale building up in their lungs. And most of them start when they are only 13. What a way to grow up...
We went in wearing masks, and even these werent enough. Luckily I had a bandanna in my pocket, and using that with the mask was bearable.. just. The miners themselves dont wear any cos they are doing such physical work and get too hot. Me, personaly.. I prefer hot over dead, but as our guide told us, these guys dont bother to look further ahead than dinner that night. They have nothing to look foward to.
The tunnels themselves were tiny. We were crawling a lot of the way. When it was time to descend or ascend a level it was sliding and scuffling time. I watched in horror as two 14 year old boys repeatedly crawled up and down one of these sloped areas carrying 40kg sacks of ore on their backs. Ascending was actualy the hardest part for us too. Involving more excertion, and still at 4,000m ASL we were sweating like beasts. Not nice.
Most of the photos I took didnt come out well, cos the massive ammounts of dust reflected the flash. This again reminded me how grim it was down here.
The miners cope by crewing HUGE wads of coca all day long, which gives them energy and fends off hunger. I certainly chewed my fair share today, but it didnt help that much.The locals are mostly catholics here. They reason that as God is above, then the devil lives underground. In keeping with this concept they had made a statue of the devil, and regularly gave it offerings. I sat next to the devil, but offered him nothing. We were at the end of the trip at that point, and I just wanted out. An offering might have been misinterpreted as wanting more... no thanks
Once out I realised oince again just how lucky I (and indeed you reading this) really are. It makes me feel embarrassed, literaly, that we piss and moan about trivial bullshit like there not being enough sugar in our latte´s, when others have to deal with this.
And what is their reward? Apart from early graves, the miners usualy make around 1500 Bols per month. Thats less than $300 NZ per month. And get this, thats considered good money over here. Hence 14,000 miners doing this 8 hours a day.
The finale of the tour was nice at least. Once we had regained our senses, we got to
set off some dynamite, which we had purchased at the market earlier. ($3NZ for stick, fuse and accellarant, anyone can buy it-cool.) After unwrapping it (it looks like green play dough), rewrapping it with the accelerant,and setting the fuse, the matches came out. Having a stick of lit dynamite in your hand is quite an experience. One of the other travellers freaked out and threw his like a grenade. This pissed the miners off, as one of them had to go and fetch it, cos he´s thrown it somewhere sensitive! It was still lit of course...I placed mine where directed, then we ran away... real fast. And the bang was pretty loud. I took a video clip of all this, but the file is too big to attach to this blog.
Being driven back to town I reflected on what IU´d just experienced, and decided I needed a beer. The bus driver obviously thought the same thing, and picked up a glass from a couple of lads selling on the street side. He drank as he drove, not seeming to notice the looks he was getting from all the foreign passengers.
Only in Bolivia...
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