Yesterday wasn’t very productive. I didn’t get any interviews, mostly because when I got up to the mines I couldn’t find my wing man Wilder the porter. The workers also looked busy and did not want my presence there. My busted lip was also burning like a ring of fire so I had to stay in the shade.
Today was good. I woke up feeling charged determined to get some interviews. It really is shocking how many tragic stories populate these mines. Just as we made our second last stop before heading up to El Cerro Rico a teenage boy got on the bus and sat next to me. The minute he came on I knew he was a miner that I wanted to speak with. Quit and to himself, he seemed like he was in a lot of emotional pain. Knowing this I became incredibly nervous to approach him. Generally everytime I’m near the miners a level of fear and respect falls over me that I have a hard time controlling. My palms start to sweat and getting out the first few question is really challenging. I offered him some of my coca leaves and we began to chat.
Walberto is a quit speaking 17 year old miner. Four years ago when he had to start working in the mines because his father, also a miner, got sick with silicosis.Three years later he died. You could hear the pain in Walberto’s voice while he answered some simple questions in a mix of Quachua and Spanish. Elareon, his older brother, went to Argentina once his father got sick to send money home for to pay for his medical bills. His mother sells chicharones on the streets to put food on the table for Walberto’s four younger brother who’s age range from two to seven. I asked him if he ever wanted to go to Argentina to see his brother “no, why would I? It’s too hot there and they would be mean to me. Racist and call me names.” I then asked “is there anything else that you would to do with your life?” He very quietly replied “no. This is what I do.” I later asked Wilder the porter about him and he told me that he is mourning the death of his father. “He’s very quiet. Very sad. He and his older brother’s wages support his mother and four younger brother. He’s always sad.”
Near the end of the day I met Daniel aka Bolivar. All the miners call him Bolivar because he’s the activist of the bunch. The complete opposite of Walberto, Daniel talked so much I couldn’t even get a question in our interview. Rapidly and enthuastically telling me about how he left Argentina and came back to his home land to do something about the current political situation in Potosi. A musician in his third year inside El Cerro Rico he is currently financing his first album from his mining wages.
Just before I left for dinner I caught up with Wilder. I asked for his advice on how I could gain the trust of the miners if we were to film there. We brainstormed about cooking a dinner for everyone and their families. The more we spoke about the miner’s the more their kids kept popping up and what they’re lacking in their lives. I suggested that in the evenings during our month long shoot that we could take a couple of hours, maybe three or four days a week and teach them something. Possibly English, computer skills or music. The more we spoke the more I realized that I didn’t want to do the easy thing and just get the miners wasted to get their trust and thank them for filming. I started to realizing that giving something back to their community was just as important as making this documentary.
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