Where the devil plays mine host

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This was published 13 years ago

Where the devil plays mine host

Above ground ... a steep Potosi street.

Above ground ... a steep Potosi street.Credit: AFP

Steve McKenna delves into the dark side of Potosi, the ultimate boom-and-bust city in the Andes.

TRACES of faded grandeur are slight but apparent as I huff and puff my way around the steep, twisting cobblestone streets of Potosi, a city that in its prime had a larger population than either London, Paris or Madrid.

Clapped-out cars, taxis and buses trundle past half-ruined churches and pretty plazas, while pastel-shaded mansions-cum-guest houses, restaurants and museums rub shoulders with humble tin houses and factories - out of which spring red-cheeked Andean men and women, the latter draped in wonderfully bright shawls and skirts, their heads topped with black bowler hats.

Yet wherever you go in Potosi, it's impossible to keep your eyes off Cerro Rico. Rich Mountain in Spanish, it was the name the conquistadors gave to the giant pyramid-shaped cone that towers over the city and was regarded as both a blessing and a curse.

Between the 16th and 19th centuries, Cerro Rico would yield the world's greatest deposits of silver, bankroll the Spanish expansion of the Americas and, according to many historians, stimulate not just Europe's economic growth but its increasing lust for colonialism.

Despite its awkward geographical position high in the Bolivian Andes, 4067 metres above sea level, Potosi has become one of South America's emerging tourist hot spots, in part because of tours into the rusty-red-tinged mountain (though, it must be said, this boom began before the recent ordeal suffered by miners in neighbouring Chile).

I queue with a blend of Europeans and Americans, young and middle-aged, male and female, and sign up for the much-talked-about tour run by Koala. A local company, it aims to give travellers an insight into the toil that Potosi's miners endure.

Most of the guides, including ours, Pedro, have previously worked in Cerro Rico and current miners receive a cut of tour fees.

About 400 shafts and tunnels are splayed throughout the mountain; at the entrance to one we pass miners drinking beer, smoking cigarettes and chewing coca leaves. "They're on their lunch break," says Pedro, a cheerful man in his late 20s.Two men hurtle an empty wagon down a set of tracks that lead into the works. Kitted out in full miners' attire, including bandannas to protect against inhaling dust, we follow them into darkness, the area illuminated only by spotlights on our helmets.

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We wade through puddles and, as the dirty roof sinks increasingly lower, we duck our heads, crouch and, eventually, crawl until we arrive at a cavernous little museum that, with a series of written accounts and photographs, outlines the tortuous history of Cerro Rico.

Indigenous Bolivians and African slaves were sent down the mines for six months at a time, would work 20 hours a day and sleep for four. Most would die from accidents or exposure to dust and noxious chemicals; mercury poisoning would drive others to insanity. (Some historians estimate the total death toll, either through accidents or associated illnesses, is 8 million - and rising.)

A 16th-century Dominican monk, Domingo de Santos Tomas, likened Cerro Rico to "a mouth of hell". Others dubbed it "the mountain that eats men alive".

It was a different story on the streets in the glory days. "They say that even the horses were shod with silver in the great days of the city of Potosi," wrote Eduardo Galeano in his book Open Veins of Latin America: Five Centuries of the Pillage of a Continent. "Silver built temples and palaces, monasteries and gambling dens; it prompted tragedies and fiestas; led to the spilling of blood and wine; fired avarice; and unleashed extravagance and adventure. The sword and the cross marched together in the conquest and plunder of Latin America and captains and ascetics, knights and evangelists, soldiers and monks came together in Potosi to help themselves to its silver."

According to Galeano, in Potosi's heyday: "Silks and fabrics came from Granada, Flanders and Calabria; hats from Paris and London; diamonds from Ceylon; precious stones from India; pearls from Panama; stockings from Naples; crystal from Venice; carpets from Persia; perfumes from Arabia; porcelain from China. The ladies sparkled with diamonds, rubies and pearls; the gentlemen sported the finest embroidered fabrics from Holland."

Cerro Rico's silver is all but gone now, yet deposits of gold, zinc and tin remain. About 7000 miners work in co-operatives and sell what they find to smelters; most miners, though, are lucky to earn $US100 a month and a few months ago held Potosi under siege for several weeks to try to force the government to improve conditions for all across the region. Back down the mine, after we scramble out of the museum area and through more tunnels, Pedro brings us to a halt next to a devilish-looking statue. "This is Tio," he says. Above ground, workers go to church and pray. Underground, they worship Tio, which translates from the Spanish as "uncle". This Tio is no kindly old relative, however. He's considered a manifestation of the devil.

"God has no power down here," Pedro says. "Tio owns the mine and its riches - so we must bring him gifts." Hence Tio is surrounded by coca leaves, cigarettes, photos of topless models and a bottle of ceibo - a favourite tipple of Bolivian miners.

Pedro hands me his own bottle of ceibo and suggests I take a swig. Even though I'm not sure about drinking 96 per cent-proof alcohol, Pedro insists it's for the best.

"It'll calm your nerves," he says. "And besides, we must raise a toast to Tio."

It feels strange toasting the devil but we do so and pass the bottle of ceibo around the group. It tastes like paint stripper and my stomach feels like it's ablaze.Further down the mine, we meet a 13-year-old boy who's helping his 16-year-old brother hack away at a wall. Both are chewing coca leaves, which are said to calm nerves and ease hunger. Neither is wearing a mask and the younger one is topless. It's about 40 degrees down here.

Workers are supposed to be aged 18 but the law is often ignored and there are about 800 under-age mine workers at Cerro Rico.

After an hour inside this hellish, archaic place, I'm desperate to leave and when finally we see light at the end of the tunnel, I crawl, then dash, exhausted and grubby.

Pedro tells me the miners will sacrifice some llamas tomorrow. "The more llama blood they give Tio, the less miners' blood there'll be and the more minerals they'll find," he says. As I struggle to catch my breath, it's clear that he's being deadly serious.

Trip notes

Getting there

LAN Chile flies from Sydney to La Paz via Santiago, priced from $3263. From La Paz take an internal flight to Sucre with AeroSur. From Sucre, a taxi to Potosi will take two hours and cost about 150 bolivianos ($23). 1800 558 129, lan.com, aerosur.com.

Staying there

Double rooms at La Casona Hotel, a renovated former 18th-century colonial mansion, are priced from 150 bolivianos. hotelpotosi.com.

See + do

Guided mine tours with Koala Tours cost 100 bolivianos. Calle Ayachuco 3, Potosi, +591 622 2092.

If you'd prefer not to go down the mines, the Casa Nacional de Moneda (National Mint of Bolivia) is an intriguing museum that recounts Potosi's past and is housed in a glorious colonial building. English tours are usually held in the mornings. casanacionaldemoneda.org.bo.

The city of Sucre is also worth a few days of your time. Dubbed the White City, it's blessed with whitewashed colonial architecture, scores of fine restaurants and a handful of interesting museums.

Further information

boliviatravelguide.net.

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