by Roxi Harms
He crept along, the torrential rain pelting down on the car. A few minutes later, Adam's anxiety rose. A thick fog was rolling in, covering the car like a heavy grey woollen blanket. The water raging along the road was rising. His tires slid precariously in and out of the ruts being carved deeper each second by the river running down the road. Adam strained to see where the edge was. How steep was the bank here? Suddenly, a flash of lightening illuminated the driving rain that shredded the thick blanket of fog. Simultaneously, a deafening clap of thunder shook the car. Afraid of driving off the side of the road, Adam considered stopping to wait out the storm. But if he stopped and the water continued to rise, would it wash him over the edge? Gripping the steering wheel, he peered through the film of water and the blur of the wipers beating side to side and put the car back in gear.
He didn't know how long he'd inched along the mountainside, but he was beginning to suspect he'd missed a turn. He should have reached the little town by now. He kept moving, hoping he was wrong and that Chalhuanca would appear in front of him. If he had in fact missed a turn, how far back had it been? He couldn't recall the road well enough to say. The rain wasn't letting up. He had to find the town, or some other place where he could pull over for the night.
As the minutes passed, he became more and more sure he was on the wrong road. He was lost. Then a tiny light appeared up ahead for just a moment before it disappeared again into the fog. He squinted to where the light had been as he eased the car along. A moment later, he saw the glimmer again, off to the right. Gently, so that he didn't send the car into a slide, he applied the brakes and stopped. Draping his light jacket over his head, he got out of the car and walked around to the front, peering into the darkness, trying to make out what was off to the side of the road. The gravelly roadside appeared to extend out level, past his short range of visibility, and the light that he'd spotted was shining dimly through the mist at the same level as where he was standing.
Getting back in the car, he inched it off the road toward the light, holding his breath. The ground was level! About thirty feet from the road, a tiny rock hut emerged in his headlights. Adam had seen these huts many times on the hillsides and plateaus in this area. If you didn't look closely, it was easy to mistake them for piles of rocks. The light was coming from the hut's single tiny window. Adam turned off the car. Covering his head with his jacket once again, he ran through the rain to the hut and pounded on the door.
"Hola!" he yelled over the storm. "Hola!"
After a few moments, the door opened a foot or so.
"Hola," he said to the wide-eyed little man who peered up him, wracking his brain for Spanish words he could use to explain that he
was lost.
The next morning, not a cloud could be seen in the bright blue sky. Adam waved to the little family as he drove the car back onto the road and headed in the direction he'd come. With a few hours' sleep and a full belly, he felt like new.
Huddled in the downpour outside the door of the hut the night before, Adam had quickly surmised that the man spoke only the Quechua language like most locals this high up. After pointing around and shrugging his shoulders a few times, he'd been let into the candlelit warmth of the one room hut. The man had spoken a few words to his wife, and she'd laid a woolly mat on the floor for Adam, like the one they and their little daughter slept on.
At first light, the woman had gone outside for a few minutes and came back carrying two limp guinea pigs. Quickly, she'd stripped their skin off and cleaned out their insides. Their ribcages had made a cracking sound as she'd flattened them with her fist before placing them on a hot grill over the little fire on the floor of the hut, while the little girl scooped something white into a bowl and mixed in some water. The fried "cuy" as the guinea pigs the locals raised for food was known, and the potato mash that had been served with it, had smelled and tasted delicious. Adam had done his best to express his appreciation with gestures and expressions as they sat quietly eating together in the smoky little room.
The road to the mine was easy to find in the daylight. Whistling as he drove, Adam reflected on the many adventures he'd had in Peru so far. Despite, or maybe partially because of the countless obstacles, he was having fun.
CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED FORTY-SEVEN
1974
Over the holidays, he and Jean discussed plans for her to join him in Peru. Sue would be graduating from high school in June. Adam had been in Peru for two years and the girls were growing up. Soon he and Jean would be empty nesters. They'd talked a number of times in the last few years about each of the girls spending some time in Germany after high school, perhaps attending college near Laudenbach. It was time to sell the house at Sage Mesa and rent an apartment in town for Jean and the girls until they made further plans.
The road to the mine was finally ready. Adam and Cornelius celebrated with a dinner of roast goat at Adam's favourite restaurant in Lima. But as luck would have it, just as he was making the final arrangements to transport the mine equipment to the site, more government snags arose – big ones. Adam read through the announcement with disbelief. It said that private mining permits were no longer being granted. In addition, the government had established Minpeco, a state-owned corporation, to market Peru's mining production to the world. All product had to be turned over to Minpeco, who would market it and pay the producer their share, based on whatever price they'd negotiated. Adam couldn't operate his mine without a permit. And having Minpeco sell his molybdenum on the open market would violate the main condition in his contract with Metallurg, tanking the entire project.
Then Cornelius called with yet another problem. He'd left Lima the day before at the head of a convoy of flatbed trucks loaded down with mine equipment.
"We were making pretty good time. I figured we would reach the mine site by tomorrow afternoon. But we can't make it through Querobamba. The street isn't wide enough. There's one spot in particular where there's just no way. We've been stopped for a couple of hours."
Adam knew the little town Cornelius was talking about and recalled how the narrow little road meandered through it.
"And there's no way around?" he asked.
"No. I've looked at every option. We need to take down a house."
"You're kidding me."
"I am definitely not kidding you," Cornelius assured him. "People started gathering in the roadway and getting all excited, so I asked them to get the mayor. He came down and talked to me, but now he wants to talk to you. Wants to negotiate some kind of deal, but only with El Jefe." El Jefe. Boss. He'd have to go.
"I didn't know a town that small even had a mayor," Adam said. "Tell him I'll be there by this time tomorrow." He'd set up meetings with Diego to work on the government obstacles. Now that would have to wait.
The mayor of Querobamba listened attentively while Adam explained the problem. With a mountain on each side and the little town filling the narrow valley, there was no way to get trucks through. And a lot of local people were depending on this equipment in order to have a job and make a living. Of course, they wanted to minimize the impact on the town, and if they could just move one house, the problem would be solved.
When Adam finished his explanation, the mayor looked at him for a long time. Then he nodded. He agreed with Adam that it was important for the trucks to get through and he was willing to have one house moved. He wasn't sure yet about the cost, but he would speak to his people. He appreciated Adam coming all the way from Lima to meet with him, and when he knew the cost, he would come to Lima and meet with Adam. Until then, the trucks were stuck.
Three days later, Adam's doorbell rang. The mayor, a priest from Querobamba, and another small, dark-skinned man were there to see
El Jefe.
"We talked to the man who lives in that house with his family," the mayor explained when they'd all been seated in Adam's office. "We will move his house, but in exchange we need some things."
"Of course, I understand. What are the things you nee
d?" Adam asked.
The priest spoke first. "The roof of the church is leaking. We need twenty sheets of metal to fix it."
"Okay," Adam said slowly. "Anything else?"
"We also need a typewriter," said the mayor.
"A typewriter?" Adam asked.
Yes, they needed a typewriter. And the equivalent of about a hundred dollars in Peruvian money.
"I can deliver these items the day after tomorrow. Can you have the house moved on the same day? As I said, there are many people waiting for these trucks."
Three days later, the equipment finally reached the mine site.
CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED FORTY-EIGHT
The site had been well prepared, and Korteba had done a good job of readying the equipment for installation. Soon Adam was waiting anxiously as the test loads were mined and evaluated.
The news wasn't good. The molybdenum came out too wet. It was too heavy to transport.
Adam sat in his little room in the new bunkhouse, his head in his hands, waiting. How could this be happening? Korteba had asked for a couple of hours to think about the problem. When he heard the conclusion, Adam sighed heavily. They needed to add a kiln. Korteba figured he could find the parts, build it, and install it in less than six months. Korteba was a realist, that much Adam appreciated. But they were out of money. Maybe it was time to concede defeat.
A few days later, back at the office, Adam sighed again as he picked up the phone to call New York. He couldn't think of any other option. They were so close. But with the half million spent, he needed another injection of cash. Metallurg had already waited two and a half years without any molybdenum. He wasn't optimistic.
When the response came, Adam was faced with a choice. Surprisingly, they would be willing to provide additional funding, but only in exchange for majority ownership of Minera San Diego. He didn't hesitate long. He wasn't in a position of strength any more. They wanted control of the mine. He just wanted to finish what he'd started.
With the new cash, Adam placed the order for the kiln, and then turned his attention to other problems. They still hadn't received a permit to operate.
Diego had done no small amount of charity work over the years, the type that appealed to the sensibilities of the Velasco regime. With his vast connections in the socialist circles that ran the government, he'd been working on the permitting issue in the background, while Adam waited impatiently. The call came soon after Adam returned to the mine. Diego had secured a meeting for him with the Minister of Mines to plead his case in two days' time. Adam jumped into his car and headed back down the mountain. There would be just enough time to make it.
Adam felt and heard the THUD! at the same time. In his rush, he'd been navigating the ruts faster than he should have, and he'd bottomed out. Something had hit the undercarriage of the car, hard.
"Goddammit!" he cursed, slamming his hand on the steering wheel as he watched the oil pressure fall to zero. Shutting off the engine, he got out of the car and started walking. Sometimes it was hours between vehicles on these roads. At least there was lots of daylight left. About a half-hour later a car came along and stopped when he waved. At the first
house they came to, Adam crawled out of the car and thanked the driver. The
yard was full of chickens. A donkey grazed quietly nearby. He could see movement a couple of rows into the cornfield beside the little house.
"Buenas tardes!" he called out. Good afternoon! Sure enough, a man emerged from the cornfield. Adding hand gestures to help make sure he was understood, Adam explained in broken Spanish what had happened and asked if the farmer would help him get the car down the mountain to the next town. When that didn't work, he showed the man the Peruvian money he had in his pocket and motioned that he could have it if he came and helped.
The little posse made a peculiar sight, the wife and two daughters clad in their large brown hats and countless layers of heavy colourful skirts, the farmer pulling his donkey along behind on a rope, and Adam towering over them all. The walk back to the car along the dusty road took an hour. Despite Adam's attempts to converse, the little family was quiet. When they reached the car, the man tied the donkey to the front bumper, then spoke rapidly to his wife and daughters in the indigenous language. The women arranged themselves behind the car to push. Next, he motioned Adam to get in and steer.
People stopped to watch as they dragged the car through the little town an hour and a half later. When they reached the garage, Adam paid the farmer and thanked the women. Then he walked into the garage to talk to the mechanic.
"The oil is all gone," Adam explained in Spanish. "I need you to fix it please."
The mechanic slid under the car for a quick look, then shimmied back out and stood up beside Adam.
"Dos dias," he announced. The time to ship a new oil pan from Lima.
"Two days?! I don't have two days. I don't have two hours. How about if you patch this oil pan using your welding machine, and then I can drive back to Lima and get a new oil pan there. Do you think you could patch the hole?"
The mechanic tipped his head to the side and thought about Adam's suggestion. Then he nodded. "Si Señor. I think so. I'll give it a try."
An hour later Adam drove out of the yard, oil pan good as new. Or at least good enough to drive to Lima in time for the big meeting.
Amazingly, he made it in time. The Minister of Mining was a pleasant enough man. Adam had prepared his key points carefully, and he delivered them with what he hoped was the right mix of confidence and humility. He started by explaining that he had been working for many years building a mine on the property of his good friend Diego Madina. In that time, he had come to know the people in the villages, and very much appreciated the good work the government was doing to help them. He was aware that the government did not approve of private mines which often took unfair advantage of workers from the lower class and padded the pockets of the wealthy. He assured the Minister that he valued his workforce very much. He had just finished construction of new bunkhouses for his men and a nice new kitchen where they would be provided with hot meals. He wasn't in a position to sell the mine to the government, as he was only a minority shareholder of Minera San Diego, but he did have operational control and he would be the one to ensure that the 90 men whom he employed would be treated well. And finally, he could assure the Minister of an immediate buyer for his molybdenum. Metallurg, an American company based in New York, would be interested in buying everything he produced, matching whatever price Minpeco could get on the open market.
Adam had done his best. He had made the advantages to the workers and the country clear. But he could not control what the Minister would decide.
"Feliz Navidad!" said Diego when he called Adam a couple of weeks later. "I have just had a phone call from the Minister's office and I think you will be receiving a letter very shortly, giving you special permission to operate a private mine in Peru. Have a wonderful Christmas with your family my friend, and hurry back."
They were legal.
CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED FORTY-NINE
1975
When Adam returned for his fourth January in Peru, the kiln had been installed and the test loads were good. Packing a few extra changes of underclothes into his bag, he made the drive to the mine site.
Two days later, he woke up early. This was the day they were going to start mining. It would be slow for the first couple of days while they trained the crew, and then they'd be in full production.
As the workers began to file out of the cookhouse after breakfast, Adam waited outside with the huge bag of coca leaves he'd picked up on his way up the mountain. He wanted a happy crew.
"Coca?" he said, motioning to the bag. The little men grinned and headed in Adam's direction.
As each guy filed past, Adam reached into the bag and transferred a big handful to the pouch the guy held open to him.
"Maki hatun," one of the little men said to him with a big grin. Adam didn't understand the Quechuan words. "Mak
i hatun," he repeated holding up his hand.
"They like your big hands," said Juvenal from where he'd been watching nearby. "Big hands, lots of coca for the day."
A week later the cone crusher blew a seal.
"The seal is completely shredded," Korteba announced.
"Can you repair it? Patch it?" Adam asked. He already knew the answer. Seals were precisely manufactured and no patch job would work.
"Once I have a new seal it'll only take an hour to fix. But I can't fix the seal itself," Korteba confirmed.
"Can we run without a seal for any period of time?"
"The oil from the machine would contaminate the concentrate."
"Okay, so where do we get a seal?" Adam's mind was racing.
"I'm pretty sure this is the only Kue Ken Crusher in Peru. We could start phoning around and looking, but I'd be willing to bet you're going to have to get it from Oakland, California, where this machine is manufactured."
"We both know we can't order something from outside the country without all the right ministerial permissions, which will take forever to get." The four men stood silently for a few moments. Then Adam spoke again. "I'll call Metallurg. Maybe if they order it and pay for it from New York and it's shipped to me with zero value, it'll get through customs." Adam turned and headed for the bunkhouse to grab his bag. "I'll call them from Abancay."
Cornelius was standing nearby listening to the conversation. "What the hell are we going to do with the crew while we wait?" he asked Adam.
"Keep them here. I'm going to find a way to get the seal. Tell them it's only a couple of days and they'll be working again. Remind them they don't want to lose their jobs and tell them El Jefe wants them to stay and wait. I don't want to have to find a new bloody crew and repeat the training."