When I was 12 years old I played on two different sports teams and spent my summers vacationing. Not only did I not work, but if I had, it probably would have been at a place of my choosing, not in a cemetary. We spent a day working with children through CONNASTOP, a child labor union, that´s where I met a 12 year old named Felix. Seeing a 12 year old so cheerful during his job of cleaning toombstones shocked me. Spending 4 hours a day, cleaning for about 2 Bolivianos (for refrence it´s about 7 Bolivianos to a dollar) definitely would have gotten to me. What shocked me even more was when he spent the little money he had earned on juice for me. We made one unpaid stop – to one of his friend’s parents. He was so meticulous in his cleaning, making sure it was perfect before we moved on to the next paid job. It was heartbreaking to see someone so young surrounded by death so frequently and to see him so dedicated to his work when I had spent my childhood playing with friends.
I remember learning about Potosi in history class. I remember hearing about the working conditions and how terrible they were. I don´t think anything could have prepared me for the experience of actually going into the mines. Sure, the working conditions have improved over time but it is still a job I wouldn´t wish upon anyone. The constant sense of claustrophobia, the fear of collapses, and the oxygen saturated with dust all contributed to the overwhelming experience. Nothing could make me choose to go down in the mines every day, but then I realized – it´s not a choice. It´s unregulated work, meaning that kids can start working as early as they need to in order to support their families. I started to realize how Felix could be satisfied with his job in the cemetary. Seeing the mines was even more surprising than experiencing work through a child. I consider myself short but in the mines I still had to duck to walk through the tunnels. The bandana I wore around my face was supposed to help me breathe in cleaner air, but I could still taste dirt in every breath. Silicosis is the leading cause of death in the mines, it leaves miners with a life expectancy of about 40. It’s scary to think about, if my parents had worked in the mines, they wouldn´t have gotten to see me graduate, go to prom, or help me through the college application process.
This experience has left me feeling thankful. Thankful that I was born into a family with safe jobs. Jobs that allowed me to grow up and didn´t force me to mature early. I also feel fearful that change won´t happen soon and that as I grow older and begin work, there will still be miners in Bolivia working in conditions that shorten their life, or children forced to support their family before they´ve even finished school.
