Low oxygen and low pay: precariousness in Venezuela's artisanal coal mines

The need pushed Henry Alviárez to “take a peak” in the artisanal coal mines of Lobatera, a town in the Venezuelan Andes hit by the crisis where this trade represents for many the only option.

Lobatera, in Táchira state, on the border with Colombia, has about 50 fields operated by 22 cooperatives of between eight and 10 workers.

They don't make more than $120 a month.

Coal, mainly used for power generation, moves to neighboring Mérida state or Colombia through irregular roads.

“I'm here out of necessity,” Henry, 51, tells AFP. “There are many blacksmiths here, mechanics, but we can't work on that” because of an unprecedented economic crisis that plunged Venezuela into eight years of recession and four years of hyperinflation.

Henry leaves very early every day to the Los Parra mine, about 45 minutes by motorcycle from his home. He says that the work is “exhausting” between the lack of oxygen deep in the tunnel and the precarious conditions, without safety equipment for an emergency.

His three children emigrated. One is in Chile, another in Colombia and the third in Ecuador. “And good thing they left,” he says convinced that if he stayed, his future would most likely be with him in the mine. “Who would want to work there? No one!”.

The Lobatera mines, on which some 500 families depend, are located in a mountainous area, with dirt roads where only trucks or motorcycles can travel.

It is very hot and the mines do not have bathrooms or an area to eat or rest with an awning. The tunnel is often the only refuge to protect from the inclement sun.

“It's quite a risky job, because we have to put enough wood in the mines to protect ourselves and entrust ourselves a lot to God,” says José Alberto Trejo, 38, who has already worked in mines in Colombia, given the lack of employment opportunities in construction, where he used to work.

On average, each miner in Los Parra can extract a ton per day, but there are no reliable figures on total production in the 50 fields.

- “Work very hard” -

Henry works without a shirt, pick in hand and a helmet with a flashlight. His whole body is stained black by charcoal, which mixes with sweat. He tries to clean it, without success, with a green cloth.

“The price of coal is low and over the years it has fallen more, so now it's time to work harder,” explains Pablo José Vivas, 61, Henry's colleague in Los Parra.

The miners hand over their production to the director of the mine, who sells it for 50 dollars a ton to trucks that transport it. The profits are distributed among the members of the cooperative.

Pablo, who has been working in these mines for more than 20 years, takes a piece of the freshly mined ore and holds it with his hands, stained with black. The stone shines, the light of the helmet gives it a violet hue, as if it were a jewel.

The work is distributed in three stages: there are those who drill the granular material with their beak, another who pulls the wheelbarrow and who then dumps the coal into the cart to take it out.

A man has knee-deep coal inside one of the many piles that rest outside the tunnel waiting for the truck to arrive to transport them.

The governor of Táchira, Freddy Bernal, chavista, promotes foreign investments - Russian, Chinese, Indian, among other countries - for Lobatera.

“It would generate a number of jobs, as well as an economic impact,” he said, ensuring that families who work there for more than 40 years will not be harmed.

But the announcement, which has not yet materialized, far from relief, causes fear among miners.

“The rudimentary thing is going to end, because they are going to work with new technology and here we don't know,” says Pablo. “Many of us are going to be left out.”

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