Chile’s miners suffer a case of the subterranean homesick blues

I keep straining my ears to hear a sound.
Maybe someone is digging underground,
Or have they given up and all gone home to bed,
Thinking those who once existed must be dead.

New York Mining Disaster 1941, Bee Gees

For the 33 miners trapped 2,300 feet underground in Copiapo, Chile, a nightmare is beginning to unfurl its black wings. Five of the miners are said to be ‘depressed’, not eating well and refusing to be filmed. Being trapped — whether it’s 10,000 feet up in the air or 10,000 feet under the sea; whether you’re a submariner, miner, or simply someone stuck in a deadend life — is one of the most frightening things a human being can go through.

As humans, we thrive on the ability to control our destinies. We live for the fact that when we think ‘left foot forward’, the left foot obeys. All these miners are thinking at the moment is ‘2,300 feet up’, unfortunately for them the layers of rock above aren’t budging.

There are many ways the Chilean scenario can pan out. The miners could hold their nerve, frayed as they may be, until December 25 (or there and thereabouts) when a rescue operation is said to be feasible. To do this, they will have to band together like no one else before them. Take for example the 16 survivors of Uruguay Air Force flight 571 that crashed in the Andes, who eventually resorted to cannibalism to survive the frigid mountains.

In his book Miracle in the Andes: 72 days on the Mountain and My Long Trek Home, Nando Parrado writes about the decision to eat their dead comrades: “At high altitude, the body’s caloric needs are astronomical... we were starving in earnest, with no hope of finding food, but our hunger soon grew so voracious that we searched anyway... again and again, we scoured the fuselage in search of crumbs and morsels. We tried to eat strips of leather torn from pieces of luggage, though we knew that the chemicals they’d been treated with would do us more harm than good. We ripped open seat cushions hoping to find straw, but found only inedible upholstery foam... Again and again, I came to the same conclusion: Unless we wanted to eat the clothes we were wearing, there was nothing here but aluminium, plastic, ice and rock.”

In the case of the Chilean miners, starvation is not an issue as food and water is being delivered to them, courtesy a small hole to the surface. What is an issue, however, is the unravelling of the group dynamic. When the human mind has no specific task to focus on, it tends to wander into rather dark territory. Sniping and psychological jousting becomes a mental routine for the alpha psyches. This in itself is not lethal, but can soon develop into frustration and a subterranean cabin fever, which soon could lead to panic.

And panic is the one thing they don’t need. Thirty-three panicking miners could swiftly result in 33 dead ones, and the psych team above ground will have to pay close attention to this over the coming months. Of course, the fact that an intercom and camera has been set up so that the miners can keep in touch with medical personnel and family makes it ever-so-slightly easier, but after a while, the presence of family above ground… a mere 2,300 feet away could be excruciating.

Have you seen my wife, Mr Jones?
Do you know what it’s like on the outside?
Don’t go talking too loud, you'll cause a landslide, Mr Jones.

Sickness and death are the other two beasts that have to be kept at bay. In an enclosed space such as the one the miners are in, decaying bodies could lead to disease spreading like wildfire. So special physical fitness regimes have been set up to keep the miners on their toes and focused at the job at hand; getting out alive. Spare a thought for the families as they stare at the faces of their men folk — framed by the darkness of a shaft that could collapse any minute. Every time they see a face it could well be the last. Lives may be snatched away in a flurry of dust and rock, and this is what they will have to live with.

The four-month wait is equally devastating for those topside because a midnight phone call can only mean one thing: It’s collapsed. There is no 24-hour rescue operation that could turn up a living husband, brother, or father at any minute. All there is, is the sustained static of a screen that delves into the dark recesses of the earth. Every now a then, a face appears, irises glowing like points of horror. It smiles through cracked lips, and bad teeth; acknowledges love and then disappears back into the darkness. Static and the long wait begins anew.