El Cerro Rico de Potosí, emperador de todos los montes, pirámide de todos los minerales, palacio de todos los tesoros, es hoy un vertedero de escombros que amenaza con derrumbarse sobre los diez mil mineros que entran todos los días.
Potosí fue el escenario de los conquistadores españoles que acumularon la plata, de los barones mineros que instauraron el primer capitalismo boliviano, de la revolución de 1952, las masacres militares y la última guerrilla del Che. Del subsuelo salieron los obreros que tumbaron dictaduras; ahora salen niños que se manifiestan y consiguen leyes para trabajar a partir de los diez años.
En Potosí están los mecanismos de la riqueza extraordinaria y de la pobreza tan ordinaria.
En Potosí está la violencia. Al final de la cadena hay una niña de doce años que entra a trabajar en la mina. Esa niña se llama Alicia y Potosí cuenta su historia.
Cechą najlepszych reporterów jest umiejętność wciągania czytelników w lekturę o rzeczach pozornie zupełnie nieinteresujących. Jak historia wydobycia srebra i cyny w Boliwii.
"Potosí. Góra, która zjada ludzi" Andera Izagirre jest reportażem, który przeszedł przez księgarnie raczej niezauważonym. A szkoda, bo jest tam kilka wątków, które warto sobie przyswoić.
Na przykład ten, że same dzieci mogą walczyć o prawo do... pracy i bycia traktowanymi na równo z dorosłymi. Bo są takie miejsca na świecie, w których zakazy nie działają, a tylko pogarszają sytuację nielegalnych pracowników.
Duro repaso a la historia de la minería de metales preciosos en Bolivia y cómo esa riqueza ha pasado de largo de la mayor parte de sus habitantes. Ander Izagirre, entre el reportaje, el ensayo histórico y el libro de viajes, traza las coordenadas históricas, políticas, sociales, económicas y personales que explican la pobreza en la que viven tres mujeres en la canchamina de Potosí a 4400 metros de altura. El acercamiento a esa realidad es crudo, muy especialmente en el último capítulo. El momento elegido para, por fin, tocar la violencia sistémica contra la mujer en un entorno donde las palizas, las violaciones y la maternidad adolescente son moneda de curso común. El aldabonazo a este devastador retrato de las entrañas del capitalismo en su más horrenda expresión.
Bardzo dobry reportaż. Nazwałabym go wręcz modelowym: jest jedna historia stanowiąca punkt wyjścia i trzon całej książki, a wokół niej autor dokonuje dogłębnej analizy sytuacji z polityczno-historyczno-społecznego punktu widzenia, i jest przy tym właściwie niewidoczny. Przez całą lekturę miałam nieodparte wrażenie, że to jest po prostu rzetelny reportaż, bez udziwnień językowych, osobistych wycieczek czy zbędnych dygresji. Nie czyta się przez to szybko, bo jednak trzeba się skupić (i czasem też odłożyć, żeby sobie poprzeklinać ze złości i bezsilności, że takie rzeczy się dzieją na tym świecie), ale dzięki temu sedno nie umyka i myślę, że będę ją pamiętać jeszcze długo. Duży plus za epilog, w którym Izagirre nie tylko wraca do swoich bohaterów, ale także przyznaje, co mógł w swojej książce napisać lepiej. Bardzo polecam jeśli jesteście zmęczeni tzw. reportażem literackim i chcecie przeczytać po prostu kawał dobrej literatury faktu. I do tego w naprawdę dobrym tłumaczeniu Jerzego Wołk-Łaniewskiego (tak oceniam, bo czytało mi się bardzo płynnie i bez zgrzytów).
Dire addio è difficile. Sto andandomene dalla Bolivia, portando con me tutto quello che posso - il tempo, le conoscenze e la fiducia che le persone mi hanno concesso: la materia prima per scrivere un libro - e il sospetto che a loro il libro non servirà a niente. […] É difficile dire addio ad Alicia, Rosa ed Evelyn, perché è in questo momento che inizio a preoccuparmi. Il mio libro servirà a qualcosa? Aiuterà qualcuno? Contribuirà a parlare dei meccanismi dell’ingiustizia e di coloro che ne traggono vantaggio? […] Lascio Alicia sulla canchamina, vicino ai binari che portano alla bocca nera della montagna. Questa notte scenderà in miniera. E questo - nessuno lo metterà in discussione - è per il suo bene.
Fermo restando che mi è piaciuto molto, mi ha però lasciato un po’ di amaro in bocca, tanta tristezza e un forte senso di impotenza. Ma mi ha fatto conoscere una Storia e una realtà molto, molto lontane da noi. Oltre a golpe, controgolpe, guerriglia e carneficine, che caratterizzano per lo più l’asprezza, la violenza e il menefreghismo del potere, c’è la storia delle miniere, in questo caso il Cerro Rico a Potosí per l’argento e Llallagua per lo stagno, del loro sfruttamento nel tempo, ma soprattutto ci sono le condizioni estreme e terribili in cui versano coloro che lavorano in questi siti: uomini, giovani, donne, bambini. Praticamente vengono trattati peggio degli schiavi, senza alcun tipo di copertura, assicurazione, sicurezza, assistenza, per non parlare poi delle condizioni igieniche, sanitarie ed economiche. Gente che si spacca la schiena, le mani, che ci rimette i polmoni, la vita e molto altro… eppure non esistono agli occhi dei potenti, neanche fossero fantasmi.
Un reportage duro, crudo, doloroso, quello di Ander Izagirre, giornalista spagnolo, che purtroppo non lascia spazio alla speranza di cambiamenti immediati, ma che smuove la coscienza. La nostra almeno. La storia di Alicia, La bambina d’argento, è solo una “scusa”, uno spunto naturale, per parlare di questo spaccato di mondo; ma forse Alicia qualche speranza ce l’ha, grazie alla sua determinazione e al suo voler essere in un prossimo futuro una persona diversa. Io, nel mio piccolo, le auguro di farcela.
To jest reportaż bardzo dobry, bardzo ważny i bardzo straszny. Powinien mieć na okładce trigger warning dla osób w nie najlepszej formie, żeby omijały go z daleka, bo ilość czystego zła jakie ważniejsi robią tym mniej ważnym i całkowity brak nadziei może człowieka rozbić na kawałki. Naprawdę, po tej książce jest się bardzo łatwo zradykalizować, bo jak mało co pokazuje w pigułce wszystkie największe plagi, które obowiązującym systemom władzy i wyzysku zawdzięczamy. Tak więc #fcukpatriarchat #fcukkapitalizm #fcukkolonializm i #fcukUSA
"Potosi" to reportaż porażający. Główna historia to opowieść 14letniej dziewczynki Alicii która pracuje w kopalni metali na górze Cerro Rico de Potosi. Boliwijczycy w nieludzkich warunkach pracują przy wydobyciu srebra, cyny pozbawieni praw pracowniczych, ubezpieczenia medycznego, środków ochrony osobistej. Traktowani są jak tania siła robocza, pozostawieni przez państwo, zarabiają tyle by nie umrzeć z głodu. Zamiast tego umrzeć na krzemicę przez czterdziestką. Przez co ich dzieci muszą pracować żeby jakoś utrzymać rodzinę. Ale to też historia o okrucieństwie i wyzysku ciągnącym się latami. Łupieżcza polityka wobec krajów Ameryki Łacińskiej prowadzona głównie przez USA doprowadza do całkowitego upadku zwykłych obywateli. Książka otwiera oczy. Dobitnie uświadamia, że opisane zjawisko wciąż istnieje w XXI wieku. To chyba będzie najlepszy reportaż w 2022 roku!
An excellent, yet sad book about Bolivia. Ander Izagirre is a Spanish (Basque) journalist (which you can really tell from his writing style) and he wrote about Cerro Rico, a mountain in Potosi that literally eats men because so many miners have died over the years trying to extract ore out of it. It used to be silver, but now it is mainly tin and zinc. Most miners hardly reach the age of 40 because they breathe in such bad air inside the mine that they suffer and die from silicosis. When I read this book, I felt transported to Bolivia, the writing was really that good. It's a short book divided into five chapters. Besides the personal story of a teenage girl Alicia and her family, who live right outside of the mine, a wide range of topics are discussed. They include Spanish colonisation (the silver of Potosi), US intervention in Bolivia (against communism and in favour of multinational corporations), how almost 90% of today's miners are working in cooperatives, corporate trickery against human rights (no contracts, no safety training, no safety equipment, no insurance...), gender inequality, child labour and the never-ending cycle of poverty. The stories are very depressing and heart-breaking, but important to read. It seems that regions "blessed" with a lot of natural resources always turn out to be "cursed" because the powerful will fight to control it and oppress the poor to exploit the land and gain as much money as possible. Sadly, things only seem to get worse and will probably not end until the mountain collapses.
"The secret of Potosi was not silver. Or not just silver: it was slave labour, which meant that extraction costs were low and the profit margins were huge. It was not silver that provided the wealth of Potosi. it was the Indians."
"Banks, investment funds and speculators move huge sums of money from one corner of the globe to another, from one stock exchange to another, from one currency to another, from one commodity to another, with the aim of making money on their transactions, causing some prices to rise and others to fall. They can cause the price of wheat to rise, earn huge profits - and condemn millions to hunger. They can cause the price of tin to fall, ruin a country that depends on it for income - and then force the same country to sign agreements to save itself from catastrophe. [...] Years later, some IMF and World Bank economists argued that the wave of privatization and liberalization had nothing to do with economic stabilization. Instead, they were simply taking advantage of the economic crisis which they themselves had engineered to impose these 'solutions', to open up these countries to multinationals and an unregulated global market in which speculators could make huge profits."
"Prior to 1985, there had been 20,000 cooperative members: one quarter of the total Bolivian mining workforce. By 2016, they numbered 119,000, almost 90 per cent of the total, compared to the 8,000 who worked in the private mining sector and the 7,500 who were still employed by the state. This was what 'liberalization' meant for most workers: losing stable jobs and being transferred to the informal sector, where they lacked contracts and security, and the work was performed under dreadful conditions."
Ander Izagirre is a Spanish journalist who writes in both Spanish and Euzkadi (Basque). Potosi: Narrativa is the book in Spanish which has been translated into English as The Mountain That Eats Men and which is this month's reading for the World Literature Group I am in on Goodreads. "The Mountain that Eats Men" is the nickname of the Cerro Rico just south of the city of Potosi in Bolivia, which since colonial times has been one of the richest silver mines in the world. The descriptions of the book on Amazon and elsewhere call the book a history of the Potosi mine or the story of a young minera (fourteen at the beginning of the book) whom Izagirre calls "Alicia Quispe" (as with many of those he interviews, he has changed the name for her own safety) -- but in fact it is much more. Essentially, it is a history of mining in Bolivia, or what amounts to the same thing, a history of Bolivia; probably no country in the world is a better example of the Marxist dictum that all history is the history of class struggle.
The first chapter, "En el pais de los tesoros", is set in the Potosi silver mines. It opens underground, where the author is interviewing an old miner (as he says, a rarity in Bolivia) he calls "Pedro Villca", and the first sentence is ""Las mujeres no pueden entrar a la mina" dice Pedro Villca." ("Women cannot enter the mines", said Pedro Villca.) There follows a description of the interior of the mountain and the current primitive methods of working the veins. The book then turns to a clearing high on the mountainside where Alicia lives with her widowed mother Doña Rosa and her little sister Evelyn. Throughout the book we come back to this family. Here we learn more about the horrible conditions of poverty and environmental contamination in which the mining families live in Potosi. There is also a bit of the early history of the region.
The second chapter, "El barón y la princesa" describes the author's second trip to Bolivia and is set mainly in Llallagua, about 230 km north of Potosi, the site of the "Siglo XX" tin mines. This chapter goes back to the turn of the century, when a ruined miner discovered a rich vein of tin and sold it to a speculator named Simon Pati��o, who became the fifth richest man in the world. (I couldn't help thinking of the poor computer programmer who wrote DOS and sold it for a couple hundred dollars to his "friend" Bill Gates.) Patiño and the other tin barons did nothing to develop the country or diversify its economy; they controlled the government in the interests of their oligarchy and all eventually lived outside Bolivia. The author meditates a bit on the irony that the richest places in world in terms of natural resources are the poorest for the working classes. (This is not only true for mineral resources; the richest agricultural territory of the colonial empires was -- Haiti.)
The third chapter, "Todo a punto de estallar", continues the more recent history from the Revolution of 1951 under Victor Paz Estenssoro, which nationalized the mines and made a beginning of improving conditions for the miners, but ended up in bureaucratic corruption (I was reminded of the Egyptian Revolution of the same period under Gamal Abdul Nasser, and more generally of most revolutions from the Bolsheviks on) and eventually succumbed to the pressure of American imperialism which artificially depressed the world price of tin (as they later did with copper to overthrow Salvador Allende in Chile). There followed a series of military governments, a brief period of democracy, and then the second administration of Paz Estenssoro, who was by then a complete tool of the IMF and the multinational corporations, and who immediately undid all that he had done before, privatizing the mines (the more profitable given to the multinationals, the less profitable as "cooperatives"). This chapter has some very interesting information about the role of working class women in overthrowing one of the military governments and highlights the role of Domatila Barrios. This section is partly based on interviews with a leftist Catholic priest who seems to be a precursor of "liberation theology".
The fourth chapter, "Los que sobran", comes back to the Potosi region and explains the nature and role of the "cooperatives." Originally actual cooperatives of miners, who worked the least profitable parts of the mines, they were taken over by the bureaucratic leaders who treat them as their private property and employ and exploit the greatest number of miners in the country, mostly not "members" of the cooperatives, who make minimum wage or below and have no benefits. The cooperatives up until recently were exempt from most taxes, labor and environmental laws (and ignored those that did apply) and used those exemptions to "front" for the multinationals. The cooperatives employ almost all the miners in the country, which is to say most of the industrial workers, and account for about 3% of the total production, while the multinational corporations who own the technologically advanced private mines employ only a few thousand miners and account for the other 97%. The book explains the attempts of the leftist government of Evo Morales to bring the cooperatives under the laws and how the cooperative directors fought against his administration. (Last November I read a book by Tariq Ali which was partially about Evo Morales, the only other thing I have read about Bolivia. He has since been deposed by the oligarchy.)
The last chapter, "El Diablo", is about the violence of the miners' culture and the attempts of women to organize and change it. The book then ends with the family of Alicia.
This is a very bleak and depressing book; it shows that there is essentially no hope for the workers of Bolivia as long as capitalism continues to exist on a world scale. I don't know enough about the history of Bolivia, obviously, to judge whether all his facts and interpretations are correct, but there is nothing which doesn't ring true in the light of what I know about the United States and other parts of the world.
Ander Izagirre’s reportage “Potosí. The Mountain That Eats Men” is of the kind I like most - moving stories of several individuals, beautifully structured around the core theme, with adequate amount of history, politics, as well as social and cultural context. Here, the core theme is the silver mining industry of Cerro Rico de Potosí in the Bolivian Andes.
The industry has been highly exploitative since the very beginning. First, Spanish colonisers grabbed whatever they wanted in a lawless manner, then mainly Western (but also the Japanese) corporations took over, abusing the rights of local, predominantly Indigenous people, abusing the land and enraging El Tío and La Pachamama, the underground god and Mother Earth who need to be worshipped. Politicians, Bolivian elites and the Catholic Church have supported and continue to support modern slavery and child labour, perpetuating growing social inequality. Corruption, violence, destitution, lack of education and perspectives, terrible health and an extremely high death rate, from sickness and accidents - this is local population’s daily bread and butter. The mountain is akin to a monster who literally eats people greedy for the wealth hidden within.
Izagirre focuses on children and women who bear the grunt of the system unable to protect them. It is the women who fight for better conditions, for education and food for their children, who raise awareness about high prevalence of sexual violence against children and women and who tirelessly educate themselves and others. I admired resilience and drive of a few characters Izagirre became closest with, especially teenage Alice and her mother. Alice’s mother is a typical chola, an uneducated, kind woman who does everything she can so that her daughters can enjoy slightly better lives.
A phenomenal book. Even though it talks about a very specific place on Earth, it is deeply universal. I felt inspired reading about the strength of local women’s community taking steps to fight oppression, patriarchy and capitalist power structures. It is one of many examples of how much goodness can be achieved by women and evidence of how women heal and repair what men destroy.
Ander Izagirre escribe como le da la gana acerca de lo que le da la gana y, claro, así cualquiera. El Cerro Rico de Potosí es legendario hasta el punto de que su mero nombre equivale a riquezas sin fin; incluso aparece en el escudo oficial de Bolivia. En el siglo XVI era la mina de plata más importante del mundo; cinco siglos más tarde es un agujero infame donde sobreviven con salarios de miseria (cuando tienen salario) varios miles de personas. Izagirre, contador de historias curtido en la literatura de viajes, aplica esa narrativa a las historias de varios mineros (y mineras, joder, pobres mineras), saltando de lo particular a lo global, de la cotización internacional del cobre a la niña de trece años que empuja un carrito en la bocamina a cuatro mil metros sobre el nivel del mar, pasando por la historia de la minería en Bolivia bajo el dominio Español y por las leyes a favor del trabajo infantil del gobierno de Evo Morales. El libro es duro, como no podía ser de otra manera, e imprescindible.
Tak naprawdę to ogromne 5 za treść, i trójka z plusem za formę (powtórzenia, te same informacje po 3 razy rozsiane po jednym rozdziale, tak jakby były tam posklejane niezależne krótkie eseje, i redakcja nie wyeliminowala powtórzeń, które są całkowicie zbędne) - tym nie mniej zdecydowałem się nie obniżać oceny z powodu tej formy, bo ocenienie tej książki na niżej niż 5 byloby skrajnie niesprawiedliwe wobec pracy, jaka tu została włożona. Historia Cerro Rico, historia Potosi, historia Boliwii, górnictwa tam, ale nade wszystko historia ludzi tam żyjących, z przeogromnym wyróżnieniem historii Alicii, kiedy ją poznajemy, ledwie nastoletniej, kiedy ją żegnamy, 22-latki, mają taki ciężar gatunkowy, a zwłaszcza emocjonalny, że ciężko jest to wytrzymać. Nieziemskie, niesamowite jest to, jak bardzo upadlające warunki ludzie tworzą innym ludziom, i to, jak wytrzymali i odporni są ludzie. Alicjo, nie wiem jak wyglądasz, nigdy Cie nie poznałem i nie poznam, ale jednocześnie przez wiele lat Cie nie zapomnę. Panie Izagirre, dziękuję.
«ES DIFÍCIL DESPEDIRSE. Yo también me marcho de Bolivia llevándome todo lo que he podido —el tiempo, los conocimientos y la intimidad de algunas personas: la materia prima para escribir un libro— y con la sospecha de que el libro a ellas no les servirá para nada. Bolivia también es, desde hace décadas, uno de esos países exportadores de historias sensacionales: periodistas, escritores, cineastas, fotógrafos, antropólogas y cuentacuentos venimos a buscar historias de miseria y violencia, que luego en nuestra casa nos lucen mucho y que a los protagonistas pocas veces les sirven de algo. Se me hace dificil despedirme de Alicia, doña Rosa y Evelyn, porque es el momento en el que surgen esas preocupaciones —¿les servirá a ellas este libro, le servirá a alguien, servirá para hablar de los mecanismos de la injusticia?»
4,5. Świetny reportaż, chociaż trochę jednostronny. Zabrakło mi jednak głosów tych „złych” górników. Przez pryzmat góry Cerro Rico autor opowiada również o historii Boliwii.
Ander Izagirre, en esta obra a caballo entre la crónica y la divulgación, baja a las profundidades de la tierra para iluminarnos con un recorrido sobre el sueño de Potosí, en Bolivia, y cómo se ha terminado convirtiendo en una pesadilla para millones de habitantes a lo largo de sus casi 500 años de historia de explotación.
Es un libro donde he aprendido muchísimo sobre aspectos que no tenía ni idea. Ander nos lleva de la mano para llevarnos a los orígenes de la conquista del cerro de Potosí por los españoles, pasando por las dinámicas crueles, mafiosas, machistas y crudas a las que está condenada la población que vive alrededor del cerro, sobre todo los mujeres.
Además, el autor elabora perfectamente las diferentes decisiones políticas y empresariales que ha llevado a esta situación, y transmite cómo eran las diferentes personas que ha entrevistado y lugares que ha visitado para narrar esta apasionante historia.
El libro de Izagirre es magnífico. El talento del autor se demuestra en el cierre, donde su empatía con las vidas miserables de los habitantes de las minas de Potosí no hace otra cosa que cuestionar su trabajo. Se pregunta: ¿Para qué sirve un libro así cuando no tendrá ningún impacto positivo en la vida de sus protagonistas?
Ma allá de sus cuestionamientos, este libro Contiene todas las características que permiten una experiencia lectora diversa. La rabia aparece gracias a la extraordinaria explicación del contexto político empresarial y el papel de Estados Unidos. La pena e impotencia aflora con la desgarradora descripción de la vida de los mineros y las mujeres de Potosí. Y por último, el interés surge gracias a la claridad narrativa y seriedad periodística que el autor plasma en su texto.
Absolutamente maravilloso, dentro de que narra una realidad terrorífica. Me encanta que Izagirre escriba pero no protagonice, y me encanta todo el espacio que ha dado a las mujeres en su libro.
A lot of "social issues" books lately have used a more journalistic style to avoid the sleep-inducing academic style that becomes the default when it comes to the inevitable discussion of dates and data. Izagirre has mastered the balance. He talks directly with people currently living in Potosí, being systematically crushed by the 500 years of history of the mountain they earn their meager living from, left with nowhwre else to go thanks to the corrupt system of exploitation that has always controlled those residing in the shadow of Cerro Rico, a mountain with a seemingly inexhaustible amount of silver and tin. We hear of the struggles between men and women, miners and millionaires, business men and politicians, and most importantly, miner and mountain, through the eyes of those who lived it. An old miner dying from the dust, still making offerings to Tío, the devil in the mines, to find a rich seam . A young girl demanding her right to take her place in the job market, as even mining is a better option than what women have been left with. An old priest who did his best to help the miners organize to fight against exploitation, with little success. With their help, this book manages to clearly explain what should otherwise be quite complicated. From Spanish Imperialism, to abusive despots, military coups, and economic difficulties brought on by IMF interference, as well as centuries worth of mining protests that turned violent, Izagirre untangles the past to bring our attention to the daily struggle of life in Potosí today.
This excellent book written by a journalist and traveler describes the change in the mining industry of Potosi, Bolivia, over centuries between the colonization of Bolivia by the Spanish Empire and the current day. The olden days, when Spain gained enormous wealth from silver extraction in the region and sent it around the world to bring back fine goods and pay for wars, did share something with now, that is, the misuse of labor to work, forced at times, for the benefit of overlords. Nowadays, gone is the grandeur and the silver. Money has more value than health. There are few regulations and protections. Life is short by hazards of the job: silicosis and accidents. Drunkenness and ensuing violence are a way of life in which women suffer in resignation and pass that fate onto daughters. The parents' way of life in the mining community continues with their children. The narrative does offer some hope for a few adolescents who dream of doing something else.
Must read si eres de Bolivia. Me hizo pensar en las diferencias en cuanto como es la vida de cada bolivianos. La verdad es que hizo que me dé cuenta donde se encuentran los principales problemas en nuestro país y como todos (más que nada, los "cómodos") lo ignoramos.
Bardzo dobry reportaż - wcześniej nie sądziłam, że mogłabym z takim zainteresowaniem czytać o wydobyciu cyny w Boliwii. Prosty język, może momentami aż zbyt sztywny, ale Izagirre doskonale potrafi utrzymać czytelnika do ostatniej strony.