El Tio´s Kingdom

More than 500 years have gone by since the arrival of the Spanish conquistadors in the New World, the colonies of which were characterized by the exploitation of natural resources, particularly minerals. In the southern colonies, the mita law was in force, which consisted in the forced labor of the native Indians in the gold and silver mines. Millions of Indians died being forced to extract precious metals from the bowels of the mountains for the Spanish Crown. It is said that such material extracted would have allowed building a bridge from Potosí (in present-day Bolivia) all the way to Europe. At that time the Spaniards brought with them not only slavery, but also the Catholic religion, which in a fusion with the beliefs of the region, gave light to the present customs of the peoples of Latin America. In the mining activity, the peoples who to this day extract minerals employing ancient methods of 19th century technology, sustain and give life to a very particular mining culture, rich in traditions, myths and legends, particularly in Potosí, a city that was formerly one of the richest in the world. Following their beliefs, the Bolivian miners consider three spheres in their customs of veneration and worship: the Sky, which is the reign of God, the great celestial Entity which gives the grace of life, punishes and pardons; Mother Earth or Pachamama, who provides food and water, and finally, the Underworld, of which the mines are a part, where El Tío (Uncle, the name given to Satan) is the one who reigns, who provides wealth and pleasure, and the one who decides who will emerge from the mine alive and who will not. The day after my arrival in Potosí, the music of bands imbued the streets of the city. It was the descent of Tata (Father) Ckajcha, a statue representing a divine image, and which the miners have with them when entering the mines to work. Every mining cooperative takes upon itself the task of carrying its saint downhill in a procession – accompanied by typical local dances, floats, music, food, and alcoholic beverages – which reaches the church, for the corresponding blessing of the image, which may be of Christ, the Virgin Mary or a saint. In the four days following the procession, street stalls abound in the avenue leading to the Cerro Rico Mountain, supplying the miners with flower petals, dried llama fetuses, articles for putting together offerings, and even live llamas for sacrifices. The offerings are made to the Tío of the mine, asking for protection within it, new and better tools and a year of mineral abundance. The day arrives on which the miners make their offering to the Tío. At 5:00 in the morning I start on my way to the Porco mine, the oldest in Bolivia, the first mine to be exploited by the Spaniards in this part of the continent. I had not established prior contacts with miner cooperatives or groups, so nobody awaited me, and I saw myself obliged to approach different groups in the hope that one of them would accept my presence. Following rejection by the first group that was about to carry out the sacrifice of a llama and after being invited by another that had already done this sacrifice, the Evaristo Rodríguez family invited me to go into the small dressing room where daily they change clothes and keep their tools, and on this day was the place where their offering was being prepared, being constantly sprinkled with pure alcohol which we drank while chewing coca leaves. This moment allowed me to converse with the miners, responding to their questions regarding who I was and what I was doing there. A couple of hours went by in this exercise until the moment arrived to sacrifice a llama whose heart would be carried together with the offering inside the mine to the location of the vein belonging to Evaristo and his group. The camelid was brought down from a truck with its legs tied to its body in order for it not to move about. It was taken to the proximity of a hole that had been dug, its head was uncovered and one of Evaristo’s helpers proceeded to slit the animal’s throat in the presence of the family, including the children, who saw the sacrifice in a natural disposition, expressing no consternation whatsoever. The blood which flowed was quickly collected in plastic containers and was then dispersed around the entrance of the mine and at the door of the bedroom, for good luck. Following this, Evaristo’s father took the knife, opened up the thorax of the llama and extracted its heart – which still produced some beats – and swiftly placed it in a white container which was then covered with a handkerchief of the same color, explaining that the sun must not reach it. Once inside the bedroom, they uncovered the heart and proceeded to read in it whether there would be abundance in the coming year. Evaristo covered up the offering, heart included, in an aguayo (typical wool blanket), and toting it on its back, said that I could accompany them. He and the other two miners of the group headed for the mine, with me following. We walked along the first tunnel for about 200 yards and then turned left where a hole was visible in the ground. I was told to be alert at that moment, for one miner had already lost his life at that place. The hole was a completely vertical tunnel with wooden stairs supported between the walls. “We have to go down about 40 yards,” Evaristo told me, “and be aware that if you fall here there’s no way to get you out.” After the 40-yard stretch we sauntered in a labyrinth of tunnels which made me feel inside an ant’s nest. I confess that I would never have been able to get out of there alone. There were occasional holes in the ground connecting with other levels, so concentration was vital. When we arrived at the vein where this group of miners worked, they lit coal in a wheelbarrow and set it at a certain distance so that the smoke would not bother us as much. The aguayo was opened up on the floor, revealing the offering, with the sacrificed llama heart to one side, in the same white container. We sat around the aguayo drinking alcohol and chewing coca leaves for a couple of hours while sprinkling the four corners of the offering, time during which Evaristo and his workers asked the Tío for new tools, naming them constantly, asking also for great wealth and for him to allow them to live, averting their death inside the mine. I found it interesting that they petitioned not only for themselves, but also for the other miners working in that mountain, naming the veins one by one. When the coal was completely lit, the time came to burn the offering for the Tío to receive it in his honor. Each of the men kneeled holding the heart in his hands in a gesture of respect, and it was then placed on the burning coals. The smoke began making it difficult to breathe, so the wine and beer were hastily poured on the coals in order to leave. The way back is long and grueling, but outside, Evaristo’s family has cooked the meat of the sacrificial llama and a grand feast awaits us.