Bolivia's Cerro Rico, the 'mountain that eats men', could sink whole city

http://www.theguardian.com/world/2014/jan/10/bolivia-cerro-rico-mountain-sink-city-potosi

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At 6am, a weak and silvery light illuminates the narrow streets of the Calvario neighbourhood, as thousands of men and teenage boys make their way towards the cone-shaped peak that looms over the Bolivian city of Potosí.

El Cerro Rico – the rich hill – stands above what was once the largest silver deposit in the world: veins of precious metals so bountiful they bankrolled the Spanish empire and changed the course of history. Even today, a booming commodities market means the mountain continues to drive the local economy: about 15% of Potosí's male population still work in mining; thousands more are involved in transporting, smelting, sorting and trading minerals.

But 470 years of digging have left the mountain so riddled with tunnels and sinkholes that geologists say parts of the peak risk collapse. The government is racing to implement an ambitious $2.4m (£1.5m) plan to stabilise the Cerro Rico's summit by filling in a 700 sq m sinkhole, which appeared in 2011.

Some Bolivians say the measures are insufficient and are calling for a ban on mining near the peak, a proposal that in turn outrages miners who depend on their mineral concessions – several of which are perilously close to the sinkhole.

"For some people, [the mountain] is like the Eiffel Tower, and for others it's a source of work," said Wilber Garnica, who operates a tour agency in Potosí. "There are people who depend on mines, when prices are good and when they are bad, and they continue in the mine because there's no option."

The stabilisation project, scheduled for completion early this year, involves a super-light mixture of cement, polyethylene and sand layered with metal nets and supported by arches set within the mountain.

Working at 4,768 metres above sea level, on the steep sides of a barren mountain, has involved immense technical challenges, said Hilarión Andrade, a supervisor with Bolivia's state-run mining business, which is overseeing the project. The first pump designed to carry the mixture to the peak could not withstand the cold and lack of oxygen, and then in early 2012 a new series of collapses expanded the sinkhole, making the process even more dangerous. "We risked human life here," he said, standing on the freezing summit looking down at brittle, cracked red rock. "Despite all those difficulties and setbacks, we've moved forward substantially and should finish the project by March."

The mountain's flanks are pockmarked with dozens more sinkholes, which trace the routes of depleted veins and can widen with little warning. Yet even these obvious signs of danger do little to deter miners: some 12,000 people, almost all indigenous Bolivians, work in small mining co-operatives.

"Potosí lives from mining," said Rubén Rique, a co-operative member. He dismisses the idea of preserving the Cerro Rico by limiting mining. "That would take away our daily bread."

Silver, tin and zinc were first extracted by Quechua labourers forced by the Spanish to work under conditions so horrific that Cerro Rico became known as "the mountain that eats men". Conditions today have barely improved: the colonial-era props that still brace many of the tunnels mark the threshold to another world, where El Tío, the horned god of the mines, demands sacrifices of coca leaves, alcohol and llama blood, and safety equipment consists of a helmet.

Those miners who survive the cave-ins, explosions and poisonous gasses often die of lung disease years after they leave the mine behind.

The Cerro Rico's history of misery and unimaginable riches is the stuff of national legend, and make it Bolivia's most important monument. Named a Unesco world heritage site in 1987, that historic value has begun to provide a different kind of sustenance for Potosí, one that may buoy the city economically long after silver and tin are totally exhausted: tourism.

"The people of Potosí don't have industries, we don't have businesses that generate employment," said Marco Antonio Pumari, vice president of Potosí's civic committee. According to Pumari, one of the city's best hopes for an economic future is the budding tourism industry. "If the Cerro is lost, if it sinks, what tourist is going to come here?" he asks. "Will they come to see that here there was a mountain that maintained the whole world?"

Pumari believes the government's current project is simply palliative. "It's throwing money away," he says of the super-light cement. "It will sink down because everything up there is fractured."

Instead, he demands a long-term solution that includes moving miners to new jobs by creating safer and secure options for the many who depend on the Cerro Rico – before it is terminally weakened.

"It could be a matter of time until the whole thing comes down and we have nothing," he says.

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