Story

The Cost of Gold in Burkina Faso: Hands and Feet

A miner gathers pebbles to look for signs of gold after digging a shallow pit near Bilbalé. Image by Larry C. Price. Burkina Faso, 2013.

Four-year-old Rasmata Oue´draogo scrapes pebbles and sand into a large pan at Bilbalé. Image by Larry C. Price. Burkina Faso, 2013.

Barefooted, a young miner pauses at the bottom of a pit at the Kowekowera mining area. Image by Larry C. Price. Burkina Faso, 2013.

Dieudonné Yara and Philippe Linga, exhausted after a morning tending rock-crushing machines, sleep on rice bags at the ore-processing area near Kollo. Image by Larry C. Price. Burkina Faso, 2013.

HIs hand coated with the fine power of pulverized gold ore, a young boy bows his head for a few moments of rest while tending a rock-crushing machine in the mining village of Fofura. Image by Larry C. Price. Burkina Faso, 2013.

Three-year-old Amidou Zuretnoubo leans against the mud-covered trousers of his father, Prosper Loeukoeeourete, who just finished a 12-hour day working at the Fandjora mining area. Image by Larry C. Price. Burkina Faso, 2013.

A boy's small hand holds a large nut that secures the sides of an ore-crushing machine. Image by Larry C. Price. Burkina Faso, 2013.

Smoke and dust swirl around the young feet of a boy tending an ore-processing machine at Fofura. Image by Larry C. Price. Burkina Faso, 2013.

A young boy takes a break while sifting ore at Bilbalé. Image by Larry C. Price. Burkina Faso, 2013.

Most children in the gold fields of Burkina Faso work without shoes or protective gear or goggles. Image by Larry C. Price. Burkina Faso, 2013.

A young boy shields his head from dust and fumes in an ore-processing facility at Fofura. Image by Larry C. Price. Burkina Faso, 2013.

Women pump water at the mining village of Kollo. Image by Larry C. Price. Burkina Faso, 2013.

A miner and prayer beads. Image by Larry C. Price. Burkina Faso, 2013.

A boy drinks water from a tin can. Image by Larry C. Price. Burkina Faso, 2013.

At Sikanadjo, a miner carefully rolls a few grains of gold into a cigarette paper for safe keeping. Image by Larry C. Price. Burkina Faso, 2013.

KOLLO, Burkina Faso — I watched Dieudonné Yara and Philippe Linga sleep, the deep sleep of exhausted children. Every parent knows this sleep and it is a beautiful thing—utterly still and peaceful. The boys, who were about 6 or 7 years old, lay on empty rice sacks in the dirt, using their hands as pillows, oblivious to the rhythmic thunking of the ore crushers nearby.

As I photographed the boys, I studied them and because they were so still, I had time to notice the details and time to think about what labor in the gold mines is doing to the young children who work alongside their parents all across Burkina Faso.

I photographed their hands and feet, and realized as I did that the hands and feet of these small children were much larger than they should have been. Their skin had the texture of dirty, cracked leather. Thick crevices encircled their swollen knuckles. Their nails were split and broken from handling ore. Open, half-healed cuts showed through the dirt on their palms.

Their hands looked like they belonged to old men who had spent lives at hard labor—not children. And their feet were no better – callused and swollen with thick hard soles from running barefoot over sharp rocks.

I thought about the strength necessary to pry chunks of ore loose from strata deep underground and the deftness required to manipulate the ore-crusher controls or spin a pan full of mud and water until silt and gold separate to form a small dimple.

I thought about the coarse, hand-made tools – the shovels, hoes and picks – that the African miners use, and it came to me that the bare hands of children are mining tools, too, responsible for who knows how much of the ore brought out of the small-scale gold mines of Burkina Faso.

As a photographer, I often look to the eyes to find the image. The eyes reveal mood and emotion and tell a story. Because the boys were asleep, because their eyes were closed, I noticed their hands and feet. And once I had seen their hands and feet, I could not stop noticing the hands and feet of other children. For these children, the hands and feet tell the story.

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