Translated by Neville Cole

Rescued Chilean miner, Jaime Esteban, is the first of the trapped miners to release his account of the harrowing 69 days he and his 32 fellow miners spent underground. Here are some excerpts he read to me from his personal diary.

Day 1:          It appears we have been cut off from the outside world. ¡Dios mio! I can’t help but wonder if it is all my fault. I did not make a sacrifice to el Diablo this morning. Every day since I was a small boy I have poured some pisco at el Diablo’s feet before descending into the mine; but this morning I was so hung over I kept all of that delicious brandy for myself. Some hair of the dog, as they say. I wonder if I should tell my 32 mine brothers of my terrible mistake? At the moment most of them are convinced it is Paco’s fault and besides it is true he is always leaving the oil lamps burning in the dynamite store room. I think it is probably best to keep my secret to myself, just in case.

Day 2:          We have all smoked nearly all our cigarettes already. I hope we are rescued soon. I am not sure how long we will all last without nicotine. Paco is very drunk and trying to convince everyone we should remove our clothes and huddle together to keep warm. I had to remind him several times it is 37 degrees Celsius down here to which he eventually replied it was clearly too hot to wear clothes and ever since he has been walking around taking an extended air bath. I am glad it is very dark down here.

Day 3:          Paco tried to get all of us to make a pact that should any of us die we would agree to allow our fellow mine brothers divide up our remains and eat them. Further more he wanted us to agree to eat someone at random should our food supplies get dangerously low. We all voted that it was way too early to be discussing such extreme measures.

Day 4:          Jorge caught Paco red-handed today. He was breaking into our food locker. He claimed he was only checking to see if supplies were dangerously low yet. He seems determine to eat one of us.

Day 5:          It is becoming clear that we will be stuck in this mine for a very long time. Perhaps forever. It is difficult to keep track of time as we never see sunlight and none of us wears a watch that keeps good time. We have decided to etch a calendar on the wall and keep track of the passing days by monitoring our bowel movements.

Day 6:          It was Paco’s turn to make dinner tonight. Now, we all have the shits. Alejandro yelled at him that he must always wash his hands before cooking and that he may never again cook in the nude.

Day 7?:         Silvestro handed out handfuls of coca leaves to all yesterday claiming that it would cure our intestinal issues. It hasn’t. None of us can sleep now. Pablo decided to start training for the Santiago Marathon and went for a run through the mine shafts. He was gone for hours, I think. Mario announced he was going to write an opera about our experiences and now will not stop singing his every thought out loud. For the first time since the collapse Paco is not the most annoying person in the mine.
Day ??                    Haven’t written in at least a few days. Morale is at an all time low. There are no cigarettes, alcohol or coca leaves left but at least the shitting has slowed. We are all missing our loved ones terribly. I think about mi madre and how empty her heart must be without her Jaime by her side. I think of my beautiful wife, mother of my children and oh, how I worry for my dear five (or is it six?) little ones. I pray they will not have to suffer long without their father’s guidance and love. I also find I think most often about my lover, Maria and her fine round ass as smooth and firm as a fattened pig’s.

Day 32:        The calendar we etched on the mine wall says today is Day 32 but I am not sure it has really been that long. During our long battle with diarrhea, I am convinced several extra days were added by mistake. I also have a sneaking suspicion that Paco has been adding days when no one is looking in a feeble attempt to convince us to start eating each other.

Day Whatever: I have given up trying to keep track of passing days. I no longer care as I am finally convinced that I will die in this godforsaken hellhole. Pablo on the other hand is now running seven-and-a-half minute splits and completes 15 miles a day on average. His only concern now is adapting to the altitude in Santiago. He also wonders if he will be able to run in the daytime without his mine helmet on.

Day 30:        We have finally made contact with the rescuers and now know for certain that we have been trapped in the mine for 30 days. We cheered with delight at the thought that we will soon be free. Paco cried out for a group hug and we all joined in happily. We did draw the line at a group nude cuddle session however.

Day 31:        We asked today how long it would be before we could see our loved ones and breathe fresh, pure Chilean air and bask in the warm, healing Chilean sun. The rescue team sent word that they would get right back to us about that.

Day 32:        Today I woke to find Paco spooning me from behind and worse he seemed to be enjoying it. I pushed him away but before I could confront him he firmly cautioned me about the terrible dangers of waking a sleepwalker. He told me the next time he happened by in a somnambulant state that it was imperative I let him finish. He wandered off before I had a chance to find out what the hell he was talking about.

Day 33:        Still no word from the rescue team about when we should expect our release. Paco again tried to convince us that the world would forgive a little cannibalism as long as we all had the story straight.

Day 39:        Just received confirmation that we may be stuck here for another month. Pablo is furious. He says if we wait that long it will ruin his whole training regimen and there is no way he can be ready for the marathon now.

Day 40:        Pablo is in a terrible funk. Mario offered to run with him today but Pablo just whispered “What’s the point? What’s the point of any of this? If I can’t run in the marathon what’s the point of getting out of here at all?”

Day 50:        Today, our 50^th day underground was also my 50^th birthday. Juan fashioned a cake for me out of dirt and dried prunes. It was beautiful and I was very touched when all my brothers sang ¡Feliz cumpleaños!; but then the celebration was dimmed when we realized no one could eat even a single slice as all our teeth have fallen out. Why didn’t even one of us pack a tooth brush?

Day 60:        It has been confirmed! We will all be free very soon! We are so happy today. Well, except Paco, who actually seems to enjoy living naked in a hot dark hole surrounded by men.

Day 69:        I am to next in line to rise to the surface. I cannot believe this wondrous day has arrived. Very soon I will finally see my loved ones. I am so glad Maria is married. She will at least have the sense not to confront my mother and wife in front of such a big crowd of people. That’s all I need to deal with after 69 days down here. We have heard the President himself is up above to greet us. We have heard that TV cameras are recording every moment and that millions around the world are waiting to greet us with tears of joy. Everyone has been hugging and crying and singing praises. We even convinced Paco to put his clothes back on. He seems to have pulled himself together but keeps pacing back and forth, laughing awkwardly and saying loudly to anyone within earshot: “Hey, what happens down the mine stays down the mine. Right guys? Am I right? I’m right, right?”