ANOTHER SUNSET over Camp Hope, and as temperatures dropped the Avalos family huddled closer to the fire, savouring the heat while the wood and charcoal lasted. Sparks fizzed and died in the inky blackness.
Everything has changed. This improvised settlement of miners’ relatives, once a desolate wasteland fearing the worst, is now the focus of a nation’s euphoria. A lonely vigil has become a crowded, giddy countdown to the party of a lifetime.
Families that came here yearning for news are now the news themselves, their every smile, every hug, recorded and transmitted to a watching world. “You’d barely recognise the place,” said Alfonso Avalos (53), father of two sons trapped below.
Sixty-five days after the San Jose mine collapsed in Chile’s northern desert, trapping 33 miners, the site above resembles a peculiar carnival. A clown entertained children in Spider-Man costumes. A van served burgers and sausages. Tents sprouted from the rocks. Reporters in fleeces spoke into TV cameras.
Authorities announced on Saturday night that a drill had reached the miners, and the men would probably start to be extracted on Wednesday.
The news triggered joy across Chile. Two months ago this was a country that lived off mining but did not know its miners, the men from mostly poor families and hardscrabble towns who vanished into the earth and lived largely invisible lives.
Now, after a drama to rival Apollo 13, this other Chile has intruded into the shiny, cosmopolitan Chile. Isabel Allende, a leftist senator for the region, hailed the country’s sense of togetherness. “This is the Chile we want.” Caspar Quintana, the bishop of Copiapo, said the crisis had changed the country. “There is an incredible sense of unity and solidarity throughout society.”
The Avalos family did not argue with that. The fire’s glow illuminated prestigious visitors who stopped to chat: Laurence Golborne, the mining minister; Gerardo Roja, the mayor of their home town, Salamanca; even Chavela Vargas, a Mexican-American pop star.
“We appreciate the support. It’s wonderful to see all these people here,” said Alfonso, sipping mate, the bitter tea-like beverage, from a wooden gourd. The family nodded. There was a silence. Nobody wanted to spoil the carnival spell, but hovering in the night chill was a doubt. Everything has changed, but for how long? Once the men are out, and their celebrity fades, will the Chile of poverty, limited education and marginalisation still occupy the agenda of the political and media lords in Santiago?
“There are no jobs back home, that’s why Florencio and Renan came here,” said Alfonso.
Unable to make a decent living from the soil, his son Florencio (31), decided to harvest the rock beneath. Four years ago he moved to Copiapo, 300km (186 miles) away, and started working in the copper and gold mine for €1,000 a month – a premium wage because of the risk.
Renan, two years his junior, followed earlier this year.
When Florencio and Renan emerge from the capsule which is to release the men one at a time there will be no doubting the love awaiting them from siblings, uncles, cousins and friends who have huddled under the stars here night after night.
There will be no doubting Chile's joy and the world's excitement. But the Avalos family, in its matter-of-fact Chilean way, know fame is not the same as education or a town with economic opportunities. Celebrity will eventually ebb, said Alfonso, and the sun will continue to rise over the dry hills of Salamanca. "Some things don't change." – ( Guardianservice)