The Devil's Miner

 Today we were shown a fascinating and heart wrenching documentary about child labour in the Potosi silver mines in southern Bolivia. It told the story of Basillio, a fourteen year old boy who had worked as a miner for four years. When Basillio was just two his father had died, forcing the family to move from the city to live up in the mountains and make a living from the mines. Basillio’s mother received a small salary for ‘guarding’ the mines at night and Basillio and his brother worked for no fixed salary deep in the silver mine. How much they were paid was based on the quantity and quality of the silver they unearthed.

Basillio explained that every day when he, his brother and his ‘boss’ entered the mine, they made offerings to a statute which can be found at the entrance to every mine in Bolivia. ‘Tio’ is essentially a representation of the devil, because the miners believe that whilst God can protect them outside, once they enter the mine, God does not follow them. They therefore offer ‘Tio’ coca leaves, alcohol and cigarettes and ask for his forgiveness and that he protect them from accidents, collapse and explosions and help them to discover mineral wealth. They believe that if they do not offer Tio gifts, he will not spare them. The Rosario mine where Basillio goes to work alone to gain a better living is an extremely dangerous place to work and is harrowingly known as ‘the mountain that eats men’. Mining in this environment is not only dangerous because of the imminent risk of collapse, unexploded dynamite, arsenic lined walls and dangerous machinery; it is also a cause of significantly shortened life expectancy, as most men will die young of lung disease from inhaling vast quantities of dust. The men and children can work 24 hour shifts and earn nothing if their labour does not produce any silver.

Basillio was adamant that he would attend school with his brother as well as work in the mine, he was a bright boy who comprehended the emancipatory nature of education and learning, determined as he was not to work in the mines for very long, knowing it would soon kill him. His words spoke of determination but his eyes showed little hope. At the time the film was made in 2005 there were over 800 hundred children working in the mines of Potosi, most of whom would never leave. Whilst some of the adult men who work in the mines do so to support and feed their families, many work in the mines because they do not know any other life. They earn their money and drink their sorrows away on their days off, lacking in hope and despairing at the outside world and their chances of happiness anywhere but the dusty mines.

Many of the Bolivians that I have spoken are keen to distance themselves from the notion that they are ‘the poorest county in South America’. An observation of the city certainly challenges this view, as most people seem have food to eat and homes to live in. There is little more begging than can be found on the streets of London as most people sell goods to earn a living of some sort. There is often a common assumption, compounded by the rhetoric of development that poverty and hunger are entirely synonymous. The first millennium development goal refers to both poverty and hunger as if they were just one evil. Clearly, there is a fairly significant link between the two. However what the miner’s story and the story of many in La Paz shows is that hunger is not the only way in which people can be poor. Poverty of hope, poverty of joy, poverty of a child’s right to play and be innocent are just a few ways that the definition of poverty can be challenged. Basillio’s twelve year old brother got up every morning wondering whether or not his brother would die today, wanting to protect him and keep him safe but being powerless to stop it. Basillio went to work every day knowing it would kill him, perhaps quickly perhaps slowly. These children carry the weight of the world on their shoulders every day.