A Legacy of Death and Desolation
The Spanish Conquistadors' plundering of Inca Gold is well-documented, but it was the discovery in 1544 of the mines of Cerro Rico, in the Bolivian city of Potosi, that really gave them the money and power to become the dominant European nation during the latter half of the 16th century. It is said in the city today that enough silver has been mined from Cerro Rico "To pave a road from Potosi to Madrid."
The city of Potosi sits high on the altiplano in the south of Bolivia. Officially the world's highest city, at over 4,000 metres, it is said in Bolivia that over Potosi "the sun comes up wearing a poncho". It is estimated that over 70,000 metric tonnes of silver were mined from Cerro Rico in the 300 years of colonial rule, during which time Potosi became one of the richest cities in the world. By 1700 it had grown larger than Paris and London.
Despite the prosperity, conditions were so appalling that the Indians and Negroes forced to toil in the mines rarely survived beyond their first six months spent working underground. The smelter fumes and the mercury used in processing the silver took their toll on the miners' bodies and the number of men who have died as a result is estimated to run to many hundreds of thousands. Today there sits a poignant monument on an adjacent hill that serves as a memorial to those whose lives have been lost.
The silver is all but gone, but the mountain is still rich in tin and other metals so the miners continue to work. Boys as young as 12 spend 14 hours a day underground and the miners themselves chew coca leaves and drink 96 per cent Ethanol to enable them to continue for such long hours and in such unbearable conditions while earning something in the region of $5 a day. Wizened old women sit at the entrance to the mine searching through the rubble brought to the surface for the tiniest trace of zinc or tin.
It is possible to visit the mining collectives that are dotted across the mountainside. The infants of mining families approach you immediately upon your arrival peddling bright, misshapen stones and begging for money and food. Visitors are encouraged to purchase bags of coca leaves, sticks of dynamite and bottles of almost pure Ethanol to give as presents to the miners.
Being taken underground, however, is an experience few people can be prepared for. The winding tunnels become progressively thinner as you plunge deeper into the mountainside, towards where today's miners are working. Once you arrive, the miners offer no more than a gruff "thank you" for their 'presents' and continue preparations to blast further into the mountain, while the walls reverberate to the sounds of other explosions from adjacent mines.
Eventually the tours return to daylight and a spectacular view over the city. They are a horrifying and perversely fascinating experience, but one that feels both voyeuristic and intrusive. To be no more than a bystander, not only to desperate poverty but also a history and legacy of nothing more than death and desolation, feels innately wrong. Eco-tourism it most certainly is not.
In South America they still use the simile "as rich as Potosi", but it now seems nothing more than a bitter joke. Although the city is a well-preserved monument to Spanish colonial rule, neither the museum of the Casa Royal de la Moneda, with its fortress-like walls, nor the attractive and lively Plaza de Armas can hide the fact that the city is now as poor as it was once prosperous. Cerro Rico itself resembles nothing more than a giant honeycomb with its open and empty holes a testament to the tragedy and abuse that this city suffered at its hands and those of the Spanish.
27th May 2004