An Experience Underground

Saturday 27 January

It was another early start today, as we were traveling to Potosi in the heart of the Andes to the south-west of Sucre, about 150 kms away. Colin ate his chocolate bar before we made our way down to await Karina. When she arrived the receptionist told her we hadn’t had breakfast – we explained that we thought it didn’t start till 07.30 but she said we could have had cereal, fruit and tea – our normal breakfast these days – I think Colin was a bit disappointed.

We set off through the quiet streets out of Sucre and its suburbs of adobe houses, quite poor and run down, mixed with some smarter properties, which seemed very out of place. About half an hour into our journey we passed through the first toll – all roads in Bolivia are toll roads – and Karina bought some cheese puffs and strawberry wafers for us to munch, as well as four bread “pasties” with a small amount of goats cheese inside – for our breakfast.

The journey to Potosi took us across the centre of the Andes, up and down the steep sides of mountains in a series of hairpin bends, across bridges near the valley bottoms - that spanned mostly dried up river beds, as the rains haven’t come yet - and over large plateaus between the mountains. Overall we were climbing all the time, and it seemed strange to see plains of sparse vegetation – the ground here, on the whole, is not very fertile – with farmers mostly raising sheep, goats, donkeys and a few cows and pigs – at such a high altitude. The road twisted back and forth and with every turn there was more spectacular scenery of mountain peaks and deep gorges and valleys, and sometimes wide flat plateaus as far as the eye could see. We stopped a few times at view points to marvel at the landscape.

It took us two and a half hours to reach Potosi and our first stop was at the old Royal Mint, where we were taken around by Karina, who translated what the Spanish guide was telling the rest of the party. The museum had been renovated in 1930 when the Mint moved to a different building on the main square. We first were taken around an art exhibition in several rooms on the first floor and from the balcony we could look down on a very pleasant courtyard and fountains. One of the paintings we saw was a replica – the original is now on tour in America before going to the UK and Europe. It was a very complicated picture that had a Madonna with the Holy Trinity, as well as the King of Spain and representations of Incan gods in the sun and moon, as well as depicting the conical mountain that dominates the landscape to the north of the town, which contains the silver mines, for which Potosi is now famous. Silver was first found here before the time of the Incas, when a man tending his llamas on the mountain, stayed the night and lit a fire to keep himself and the animals warm. In the morning streams of cooled silver were running from where the fire had been.

Our next stop in the museum was to see how they made coins here after the Spanish invasion. We first saw some examples of the coins, showing how, over the centuries, the coins improved from circular silver discs, with uneven and rough edges and poor impressions of King and coats of arms, to coins that were perfectly round, with deep perfect etchings on both sides of the coin. Next we visited the “machine” room where four sets of large wooden wheels were joined together in a complicated network of wooden and metal cogs and smaller wheels to drive a vice-like tool to flatten the ingots of sliver – a bit like a present day pasta machine – rolling it out into thin slivers from which the coins would be cut – each set of wheels rolled the silver to different thicknesses, for the different coins. There were three of these large machines in the room and when we went downstairs, there were three separate rooms each with a large “mast” and four poles for turning the machinery. The floors are now cobbled, but until the mid 18th century, they were sand. There is some debate was to whether horses or negro slaves powered the machines, but it seems likely that, at least at first, it was horses. From this room we were taken to see the kitchens where the silver was melted and the ingots were made, the tools used to stamp out the coins from the sheets of silver, and the weighing machines. There were also a couple of trunks that had secret locking systems, that were used to carry the silver coins to Spain, hopefully baffling the pirates if they were captured.

Our next stop was at a tour shop to arrange our visit to a silver mine. It appeared that there could be a demonstration about wages for miners this afternoon, so it was preferable to go straightaway, and as only local guides were allowed to enter the mines, Christian would accompany us. He took us first to the miners “village” on the northern outskirts of Potosi, where we bought ‘presents’ for the miners of coca leaves, cigarettes and 98% proof alcohol – 20 Bolivanos for the two bags (about 1.30 GBP). We were shown sticks of dynamite and fuses (sold in two lengths – from shoulder to wrist was a short length and from wrist to opposite shoulder across the chest was a long length) and ammonium nitrate in polythene bags (I think that’s what it was called, it’s the same stuff as used in bombs by the IRA and other terrorists - tiny pink and white balls) all necessary here to blast the mountain and find the veins of silver. They claim there is no terrorism in Bolivia so these goods are freely available for anyone to buy – isn’t Colombia just next door?.

We went to an office where we were given a blue nylon jacket with velcro fastenings,a hard hat and welly boots to put on, before setting out on our journey up the mountain to one of the mines. We met several large 8 ton lorries on their way down, full of rocks and dust to go to the refinery, a huge, tall corrugated metal shack we could see further round the mountain. The shack was connected to conveyor belts and tubes, and this is where the silver is extracted from the mined rock. Most of the rock here yields 80% lead, 4-6% silver and the rest zinc. Everywhere was grey and dusty – a bit like a cement works. About half way up the side of the mountain, our driver went to a hut and registered that we were going to the mine. We drove further up the hill, before turning off on to a narrow dirt track, driving over boulders and rocks, very close to the edge and a sheer drop of several hundred metres. The track was wide enough for the large lorries we should be able to get through in a 4 x 4, except that we met other vehicles coming down! We came almost to the end of the track and stopped by an small opening in the mountain – like you see in old cowboy films about the gold rush.

Crouched men were coming out of the mines with wheelbarrows full of rocks and dust, hurrying, each to a specific pile, emptying the barrow and going back in. Before we followed Christian into the narrow entrance, we were fitted with a battery pack and a miner’s lamp. He showed us some black paintings over the doorway, which were said to keep out evil spirits, before leading us down a very low, narrow tunnel of bare rock, a dusty floor, lined with smaller rocks. The daylight quickly faded and we were in the dark, with just our lamp beams to light the way. The tunnel was so low we too had to crouch – sometimes Colin felt as if he was walking on his knees. As we went further in, some of the miners were coming out with their wheelbarrows full of the grey rock, so we had to press our bodies into the sides, still crouching, while they passed by. We crept along, bending under compressed black compressed air pipes that work the jack hammers which make the holes in the rock to put the dynamite in for blasting – having the compressed air facility makes this a “modern” mine! We often banged our heads on the pipes and rock above an at one time Colin’s hat was knocked off. There were great gaping holes along the narrow pathway at some points, which led to lower levels – there were about twelve levels in this mine in total.

Different groups of miners work different parts and levels in the mine, so there were several groups going backwards and forwards while we were there. In all, about 15,000 men from Potosi work in the mines, which means that almost half the population of the city (including families) is connected with mining. They work a sort of shift system on the wheelbarrows, one man digs the blasted rock into a barrow with a very basic old-fashioned spade, and he takes it to a changeover point, where it is collected by another man, who exchanges the full barrow for his empty barrow. He then takes it further along the tunnel, to another changeover point, and so on, until it reaches daylight. We continued on and on along the tunnel further into the mountain, before turning right into another, even smaller tunnel. We were about half a kilometre inside the mountain by now, and a further 100 metres or so along this smaller tunnel , we came to a dead end, where there was an red coloured icon of the devil, about two feet high. He had glass eyes, representing the Spanish A butt of a cigarette was protruding from his mouth and he was surrounded by coca leaves, on his body and on the floor. Christian took some of the coca leaves from our “present bags” and sprinkled them over the icon, and replaced the butt with one of our cigarettes. He then sprinkled some of the alcohol out of the small bottle, over the body and the ground around, before drinking a tot himself. He said this was done on the first working day and last working day of each month by all the miners. They were asking the spirits to find a good vein of silver, for safety in the mine and good health for them and their families. He said we should then perform the ceremony and Colin sprinkled the alcohol on the floor in front of the devil. Examining the rock, the silver showed up as a thin black streak, with glittery points of zinc, and the rest was lead. While we were here, we heard an explosion, from where they were blasting a few levels below us! It was all becoming a bit scary now, and we started to wonder if we would get out safely. But Christian led us back along the same route as we had come in, back to the welcome sight of daylight. On the way we divided the remainder of our “presents” between several of the miners who passed us on the way. They were all chewing great “gobs” of coca leaves in their cheeks. It was a relief to step out into the fresh air, where our eyes were dazzled by the sun for the first few minutes.

We took off our “uniforms” and returned them to the office where we had collected them, before going into the city and dropping the Christian off at the tour shop. The people here are all very small, many only just up to my shoulder, but they need to be to work in such cramped conditions. The average life of a miner is only 55 years as they suffer from all the usual diseases of working in close quarters with dust and rocks. I don’t think I will be able to buy anything silver again, without thinking of those miners.

It was then time for lunch and we visited probably the smartest restaurant we would see in Potosi. Colin was feeling very brave and tried a Bolivian dish of beef, chicken, tomatoes, cheese and onions with a spicy sauce, all on top of “papas frittes”. It was in a huge blue “serving sized” bowl and really daunting. I just had steak with mushroom sauce, and Karina had chicken kiev, Bolivian style, similar to ours but with melted cheese on the top. The food was very tasty, but the portions extremely large – none of us managed to finish our meal – but Karina explained that in Bolivia the main meal of the day is at lunchtime, and they usually have soup, followed by a main course – in large portions. It was certainly that here. After lunch it was time to wander around the town, to walk off some of those calories. We strolled along very narrow streets, where, in some places the balconies of the colonial houses seemed almost to be touching – most were in a poor state of repair, but they were 400 years old. We saw the square where the cathedral here is under restoration and the new Mint, now sited in another colonial building, apparently with more modern techniques for producing coins. We visited shops selling local weavings, and knitwear, before making our way to the Santa Maria Teresa Convent.

Karina took us inside and introduced us to our tour guide. There were already half a dozen other people on the tour, all speaking Spanish, but the guide would translate for us. We toured round the Carmelite convent, seeing the chapel, infirmary, kitchens, gardens, cloisters (where there was an apple tree that was 352 years old), living quarters, refectory and a a room where once a month the nuns were allowed to speak to their family – but not see them. If presents were brought, usually in the form of foodstuffs, the nun had to stand with her back to the opening and pass a long ladle backwards through the hole, without looking – a feat in itself. There were only eight nuns in the convent now, but there had been twenty one at its height in the 18th century. It was then the practice that all second daughters or sons went into convents or monasteries and rich families paid lots of money to the convent to take their offspring. During a normal day, the nuns were allowed to speak to each other in the recreation room for one hour after lunch and another hour after dinner.

Until recent years, the nuns never went outside the convent, once they entered, and never saw any other people. They always spoke behind screens or used an elaborate form of dumb waiter to pass items back and forth to the bishop or other church dignitaries. The chapel was, as usual, ornately decorated with lots of gold and icons. The nuns now attend masses in the church sitting in the front pews, with other people behind, instead of hearing the mass from a separate room to the side of the chapel where they couldn’t be seen. Four times a year they sang from the balcony, but this again was enclosed by a wooden trellis and curtain. Karina had told us the tour would last until about 17.00 – an hour and a half – but when it got to 17.20 and we were still nowhere near the end, we asked to be excused. The guide left the rest of the group - which by this time had swelled to about twenty as others kept joining - with another Spanish speaking guide who was accompanying us – and whisked us around the last few rooms, before finding Karina again. The guide was a young girl who spoke very good English, but she kept dashing about, finding all the different large iron keys for each room, and she reminded me of the lady who kept bowing at the concert in “The Sound of Music”!

Julio was waiting with the car to take us back to Surcre – another two and a half hours. It was dark by the time we arrived and we saw Sucre spread before us lit by street lamps – it was much larger than we had realized. We decided to have some soup before having an early night as we were quite exhausted – it had been a long day. Juz phoned again whilst we were in the dining room, as they were all out enjoying themselves. After our light snack, we adjourned to the terrace to check and send some more emails before finding our bed. We don’t have to be up so early tomorrow, so hopefully will have a good rest.