Potosi is also one of the highest cities in the world, sitting at 4,100m above sea level. The altitude, harsh sunlight and plummeting nightly temperatures make Potosi a pretty unforgiving place. The old city is very pretty however, built on the wealth created by the mines during the Spanish rule. Up until Bolivia´s independence in 1825, the silver from Potosi was used to make the silver royales – the currency of the Spanish empire.

The old smelting house still exists in the city centre, with much of the old machinery still in good condition. It is now a museum, la Casa de la Moneda, one of the more interesting ones we´ve visited. The museum did a good job of explaining how the coins were made and the terrible conditions which existed in the smelting house. It also properly emphasised the importance of Potosi during the Spanish rule. The name Argentina means land of silver and refers to Potosi, as the borders were very different during this time. La Paz was located in a central plateau in the Andes in order to move the silver through Bolivia to Peru, where it was put on boats and sailed up the west coast to Panama.

After passing through the Panama canal, large galleons would meet in Havana, Cuba, before crossing the Atlantic together as extra protection against pirates. From the early 1600s, 3 million kilos of silver were extracted per year in Potosi. The Spanish royale was used as an international currency at the time, with the coins being found as far away as China. At first only the weight of the coins was important and the initial dies used to press the coins were very crudely made, encouraging people to chip off the rough edges until some of the coins were only half their original size.

Leonardo da Vinci later devised a better system, which more accurately pressed the coins and clearly defined the edges, preventing people from chipping away at the them. This technology is still on display at the museum. It is also said that the symbol for the dollar ($), which looks like an S with a P overlaid, commonly thought to stand for the Spanish Peso, is actually a PTSI overlay, which was the mint mark for coins made in Potosi.

Cerro Rico Mines

While in Potosi, we had the opportunity to visit a working mine. We went with Big Deal tours, a company owned and operated by ex-miners. They took us to visit the mine where they used to work, and where many of their friends and family still work. Most of the mines are now run as cooperatives, where each miner works for himself, extracting and selling what he can. If he strikes it lucky and finds a good vein, he makes good money. But if he doesn´t, he has to work for longer hours for very little return. Most miners work in crews of three to five men, working 12 hour shifts. Often, if they need the extra cash, they will work for 24 hours straight without coming out of the mine, only taking breaks in special resting areas. During this time they smoke or drink soft drinks, or maybe some alcohol depending on the day. The miners don´t eat in the mine, as the dust and other gases are said to make you feel ill if you ingest them. Coca leaves are chewed continuously throughout the shift, which keeps them alert and also keeps hunger at bay.

Before going into the mines, we were given overalls, boots, a helmet and a headlamp. While the safety gear was limited, it was more than many miners had underground. Very little has changed in the mines since the Spanish began mining over 400 years ago. Dynamite is used to open new veins and can be easily brought in the market for as little as a couple of dollars. Afterwards, hammers and chisels are used to extract the minerals and wheelbarrows are used to take them to the surface. Some of the crews have pneumatic drills (pressurised air) and where there are still tracks, carts carry minerals out.

The government once owned the mine and tried to introduce modern technology and practices, but due to a drastic drop in world mineral prices in the 80s and as most of the minerals have already been extracted, what is left is not profitable for the government or other enterprises and they abandoned them. The remains of some of the technology can still be seen in the mine, but nowadays only very basic equipment is used. We entered the mine cautiously, aware that for every further metre we ventured in, the kilometres of earth above our heads grew. The entrance of the mine has the old Spanish colonial stone support arches, but once inside, it changes to wooden beams – buckled by the weight at some points, but still safe we were assured. The air underground was thinner than the already thin high-altitude Potosi air. The pace was slow, but every now and again, you became aware of your own heavy breathing.

One of the most interesting aspects of the mine was visiting the Tio, the god of the minerals and decider of the miners´ fates. The Tio, which represents the devil, was introduced by the Spanish when the indigenous people protested against the terrible working conditions and tried to quit. The Spanish claimed the Tio would destroy them if they didnlt return to work. The miners now fear and worthship the Tio as it is he who decides if you strike a good vein, and he who decides if the miners all leave the mine safely each day. If there is an accident and someone dies (accidents are never mentioned or refered to as it is bad luck) it is believed that the Tio was angry over something and more offerings are made. When we visited the Tio, we brought him coca leaves, cigerettes and high percentage alcohol which we had to drink in his honor. The miners drink 96% alcohol on a regular basis and it is common to find crews of men drinking on Fridays from the early afternoon.

The night before going into the mines, we watched a Bolivian film about the mines called The Devil’s Miner. It followed the life of a 14 year old boy who had been working the mine for the past 4 years. Where our tour was lighthearted and stressed how happy the miners were, the film showed the darker side, where miners often die young from Silicosis, and childen are forced by poverty to enter the mine as young as ten. The father of the ex-miner who took us on the tour died at 55 of Silicosis which we were told was actually a pretty good age. His father stayed working in the mine until the day he died. His cousin in his early 30s has also been diagnoised with the disease and has four years to live. He is also still working in the mine.

It’s difficult is image the mine operating as it does anywhere other than Bolivia. The miners are no longer forced to work the mines, but still have such a stong connection to them that it is difficult for them to think of doing anything else. They live beside the mines in mining communities, they work every day with their fathers, and brothers, and friends, and they enjoy their work. They can start work when they want and finish when they want, and no one dictates to them. They can drink and smoke and chew coca leaves all day if they wish, and the mood below does truly seem to be very upbeat. However, they work hard and die young, leaving large families behind with limited options except to send the oldest sons into the mine to replace their father. The cycle, like most cycles, seems difficult to break. There are other limited options for work but not many, and leaving the mines would mean leaving their entire world behind. For most the decision is too difficult, so they laugh and joke and remain positive and actively avoid thinking about accidents and what-ifs. They enjoy their life and enjoy meeting the visitors that come to the mines everyday – and they don’t really think too far beyond that.