The quest for quick riches drives many men to risk their health and lives in the illegal gold mines of rural Ghana. Mayank Bubna investigates

It is midday in the market at Prestea, a small town in western Ghana, and it is immediately obvious that almost everybody here, both buyers and sellers, is female. At this moment many of the local men are probably many metres beneath the earth’s surface, risking their lives in search of gold. What is not so obvious is that many of them will be mining illegally, on concessions that have been awarded to Bogoso Gold Limited (BGL), a North American-owned mineral extraction firm.

Illegal gold mining is a relatively new phenomenon in Ghana, and it sits at odds with the country’s recent economic progress. In the 1980s and 1990s the World Bank and the IMF introduced Structural Adjustment Programs (SAPs) designed to give Ghana the economic momentum to tackle problems such as poverty, unemployment and devaluation of the national currency. One stipulation for the provision of foreign donor money was that international mining companies should be allowed to mine Ghana’s mineral wealth, thus also boosting incomes and helping develop infrastructure.

The plan ran into trouble, however, when international mining corporations were given lands that traditionally belonged to individuals who had been conducting small-scale gold mining for centuries. The situation worsened when new constitutional amendments gave people only surface rights over their territory, so if minerals were discovered under someone’s home, that land immediately became the property of the government, which could hand out mining rights to whoever it chose.

The legislation set tribal chiefs against the state and the value of the national currency dipped further (today, about 10,000 Ghanaian cedis equate to $1). Ghanaians who had hoped to secure employment with foreign mining companies instead saw jobs being given to more technologically qualified outsiders. Out of desperation, small-scale miners continued to work land that had been given – officially – to large international mining companies.

It sounds like a recipe for confrontation, but it could be argued that Prestea thrives on this illegal mining business and in the early stages it seemed as if a status quo might be achieved. Company officials at BGL quickly realised that it would be impossible to displace an entire community of miners, so they allowed a handful of individuals to carry on small-scale mining on their concession. Very soon, however, thousands of people flooded into the area to try their luck on BGL land.

There is a lot of frustration in the town now, especially because BGL’s use of explosive charges has caused considerable damage. The town’s police station, post office and petrol station have all had to be relocated because of the potential blast damage. There is also an issue of perception: illegal miners here do not necessarily see their activities as being outside the law because many of them were laid-off by the state mining company that pre-dated BGL.

The illegal miners, known as galamsey (a corruption of the words gather and sell), can earn comparatively high wages. If all goes to plan, an illegal miner can take home the equivalent of $450 per month; a BGL-employed miner will be unlikely to earn more than $200 per month, gross. Financial incentives notwithstanding, turnover rates in the illegal mines are high.

There are many problems associated with illegal mining. The gold often makes its way into the hands of middlemen, who ultimately smuggle it out of the country and circulate it on the international market. It also brings huge environmental and health hazards to the region. Mercury and high-strength acid are used in the gold-refining process, but illegal refineries often do not have the proper permits to deal with such substances. Heavy metals are handled without any protective gear – often with bare hands – and their fumes are released into the environment.

Then there are the mines themselves. These extend more than 300m below the earth’s surface, but often lack adequate ventilation systems. In these stifling conditions – and with dynamite used, again illegally, to break up the underground rock – the miners find themselves breathing in potentially fatal dynamite fumes. Underground sulfide deposits, meanwhile, leak into rivers and streams causing widespread pollution.

Alhaji Collins Dauda, an MP for the Asutifi South area of the Brong-Ahafo region, says: ‘Gold is not a renewable natural resource. We can grant rights, but at some point we’ll finish the gold and that will be that. For me, the aftermath is what we should be thinking about. We need to analyse the environmental consequences to see whether the revenues that we’re generating today from minerals or mining will be commensurate with the environmental hazards that will be caused.’ Dauda believes the price could well be too high: ‘If we sit down and really consider the environmental hazards compared to the revenues generated it may be that mining isn’t worthwhile.’

The hardships for miners are great: the mine entrances are barely larger than a manhole cover, and the walls lack proper reinforcement. During the rainy season, the mineshafts can crumble and collapse with potentially fatal consequences.

Despite this, safety seems to be a relatively low priority for the galamsey. They rarely see the need to invest in hard hats or safety ropes and drug consumption is rife, even while people are working. Most miners will drink apiteshi, a rough, locally distilled alcohol, smoke marijuana (both illegal in Ghana and punishable by several years in prison) and take high-strength painkillers. All of these help numb mind and body in the cramped and dangerous conditions.

The galamsey are not, however, just a disorganised rabble. In Prestea, they have organised themselves into defined hierarchical structures and have formed social organisations to address the needs and concerns of their workers. The work teams comprise two groups that labour in three-hour cycles. These are known as the chisellers and the local boys. Chisellers do the most dangerous work: planting dynamite in the rock, detonating it and then breaking up the gold-laden stone so it can be hauled up to the surface. The local boys, a team of 10 to 15 men, then pull the rock out of the mines to be taken to the refineries for processing.

Local tradition deems Friday as the day of rest, when the miners assess their week’s work. About 100 bags of ‘money stone’ is considered a good haul, and each team will keep two or three bags each. The so-called hole owners, those who invested their time, effort and money into digging the hole in the first place, keep the rest.

The galamsey are often educated men, some have university degrees, and they are well aware of the dangers associated with their job. They also know that, while they may take home more cash than those who work for BGL, the international company offers its workers benefits such as health insurance and sick leave – luxuries that are denied to illegal miners.

Charles Blay, a 20-year-old hole owner, says: ‘I’d rather be a galamsey than work for BGL. I could work for the company for six months and then they’d sack me. This way, I have 15 local boys and six chisellers. We live together, we die together. BGL is not for us. Members of our families worked for the company, but they were sacked. I’ve been a hole owner for eight months and I think gold is better than farming. It’s better to be the owner, because if the stone is good, you get plenty. It’s not good money when the hole isn’t yours. Every week we get 5m cedis-worth of gold. However, gold mining is risky – I don’t think I’d want to be doing this work forever.’

The galamsey are a mixed bunch. Teenagers work alongside men who are well into their forties. Children do not work underground, but are often employed in the refineries where labour is not as intensive, but exposure to heavy metal vapour is more prevalent. The miners’ motivations vary, too. While they will all be hoping to earn fast money, how they spend that cash can be very different. For example, Justice ‘Youssef’ Afekey is a 21-year-old university student who has taken on this particularly risky vacation job because he is hoping to earn enough money to return to school at the end of the summer. He is also trying to make enough to support his father, mother, three brothers and two sisters for a whole year.

Emmanuel Asili Asamoah is a fellow student – studying at the University of Cape Coast – who says of the local gold mining operations: ‘I don’t feel it’s illegal, because there are few jobs in this country. Because of financial problems, we don’t mind, we just do it. We don’t see galamsey work as criminal; we’d like to stop being galamsey – if, and only if, there is another job for us to do.’ Others, such as Abdul Latif, have already made illegal mining pay. The 21-year-old has earned enough money to open his own refinery and to hire apprentices.

Then there are the likes of Yossef Akase, who have spent their entire adult lives digging and mining, and who spend their money on drugs and pirated rap CDs (his team calls itself the Cash Money Clan). Akase, and many like him, have no intention of doing anything else in the foreseeable future.

In the short to medium term, the illegal miners will continue to work at Prestea. Daniel Koranteng, the ex-director of the Wacca Association of Communities Affected by Mining (Wacam), says: ‘I think the government will become sensitive to the conditions of artisanal mining and develop programs to target it, so that it plays an important role in poverty reduction in rural areas. In a way, Prestea is a bad example, because it shows what happens when organisations are not sensitive to the concerns of people within the community. It’s business fundamentalism that you go for the gold, and you don’t care.’

MP Dauda is another who believes society at all levels will benefit from some form of regulation in the activities of the galamsey. ‘I recognise that it’s not easy for the government to clamp down on these illegal mining operators. They tend to be indigenous people from the communities where the mining activities take place, and they engage the youth of such areas. Governments upon governments have made efforts to flush them out of the system, but it has always been very difficult.

‘I suggest instead we find a way of regulating their activities. First of all, let’s identify areas where small-scale mining can go on, demarcate these areas, identify some small-scale miners who can be responsible, grant some mining rights to these companies. This would help the government and society to prevent illegal operations spreading.’

Until that day, however, the galamsey will continue to risk their lives in the treacherous subterranean passages of the goldfields. And visitors will continue to be surprised by the absence of men at Prestea’s market.