The mines in Potosi, Bolivia are dark, damp and probably the scariest place I've ever been. It's the kind of place you visit once and vow never to return. Well, that is, if you're lucky. Hundreds of men spend their days inside the mines chipping and blasting a living out of the surrounding mountain. And although the mountain has been good to some, allowing them a better living than they would get outside, it has been horrible to many more. In fact, thus far, it has claimed more than 8 million lives (a number I have quite a hard time comprehending). Although some of these deaths have resulted from falling rock and debris, the majority are due to silicosis, an illness of the lungs caused by an inhalation of a great deal of dust. It is a horrible illness that begins with a slow cough and ends with you gasping for air (essentially your lungs create an excess of mucus to rid themselves of the dust and you suffocate in your own mucus). Our tour of the mines lasted a mere two hours and even with a hankerchief covering our mouths the entire time, we inhaled a great deal of dust. The miners on the other hand don't wear mouth protection as it would make their jobs of operating a jack hammer and pushing one ton carts nearly impossible. But breathing isn't the only obstacle. Tunnels are supported by beams that are rotting or have collapsed and tunnels are often big enough only to crawl through. As if that's not enough to exhaust anyone (working or not), temperatures reach well over a 100 degrees fahrenheit on level three.

On the outside the Miners are Catholic, attending mass regularly. But the miner's believe that the cross that adorns the entrance of the mine is as far as God reaches. Inside the moutain, another character rules. They call him the "Tio" and each of the 200 mines on the mountain has constructed a shrine in his honor. It is here that miners offer gifts of alcohol, coca leaves, and cigarrettes so that they are spared from his wrath and return home each day without harm. Although the literal translation of "Tio" in spanish means uncle, the figure the miners worship is the devil, and with the conditions of the mine being as dark, dangerous, and hot as they are, it's easy to see why they see why they liken this place to hell.

As I walked through the dusty nightmare that was our mine tour I kept finding myself looking for someone to blame for what seemed to be absolutely horrid working the conditions. But we soon learned that no one was really "responsible" for the mines; the miners formed a cooperative and were essentially working for themselves. The only problem being that with no one "responsible," there was no organization or liability either. Prior to detenating dynamite, miners knocked three times on the earth floor with a rock. Whether other miners heard it and realized that they needed to hurriedly move away was another thing. New tunnels are exploded and created without any forthought as to whether the mountain can structurally support them.

The locals call it the mountain that eats men, and it is no surprise why. Our visit to the Potosi mines will not be forgotten. It was one of the most intriguing and eye openning experiences we've had thus far. And as we made our way out of the mines, we both had a new found appreciation for our lives and how blessed we truly are.