Don't bring matches into the mine

                                                                                Light your cigarette here

I knock it down and....

She loads it up.

As teaching has not been as fruitful in South America as it was in Asia, Aileen and I decided to take our hand at a new career. Clearly with my height and Aileen's brute strength, coal mining was the obvious choice.

We chose Chiflon del Diablo because of its rich history (and of course because of the free hardhats with battery powered head-lamps.)

Chiflon del Diablo refers to the giant balls of fire that used to periodically tear through the mine when someone's lamp ignited a pocket of highly flammable coal dust, it wasn't until the 1930s that they stopped using oil lanterns on their head. Usually the culprit was drunk, or doing something stupid, so they said that it was the work of the devil.

For the first few decades after the mine opened the bulk of the laborers were illiterate country bumpkins who came to work the mines for nothing more than room and board. Instead of being paid money the workers were given tokens to be used to buy food and clothing from the mine supply shop. Salaries weren't paid until the 40s, but apparently we won't receive ours until we fill the quota of 20 carts for the day.

Children started working as young as 8. In order to prepare them for mine life they were left inside for up to two days, alone, without a light, until they stopped crying. When they stopped crying this meant that they were ready to work. We, as well, had to pass this test as all prospective employees were asked to turn off their lights for no less than 1 minute...it was dark as all hell, but neither of us cried.

We learned a lot about coal mining, but in the end we decided that digging for black gold probably isn't our best shot at fame and fortune. But at least it's a good way to darken up your lungs.