Fortune hunters flock to Madagascar sapphire mines

The dusty figure is lowered slowly into the ground like a bucket into a well, armed with just a crowbar, a shovel and an old, unreliable headlamp.

In the surrounding countryside, bodies rise and sink from hundreds of holes just wide enough for a man.

Children run between the rubble and the smell of cooking wafts from the makeshift shelters where women crouch over pots.

Guards armed with hunting rifles stand by, turning the settlement of Betsinefe into a threatening scene.

In the world of Madagascan sapphire mining, there are few rules.

Sapphires were first discovered in Madagascar in the late 1990s, and already the Indian Ocean island is one of the world’s largest producers of the precious stones.

Its 250-kilometer-long deposit is among the biggest in the world and has sparked a sapphire rush.

Activity at this informal, though not entirely illegal, mine in the southwest of the country was suspended recently by authorities after scuffles broke out between villagers and would-be miners flocking in from the rest of the island.

Andry Razafindrakoto, a 19-year-old student from the nearest big town of Tulear, was one of the many hoping to make their fortune.

“I came here to mine sapphires because it’s difficult to find work in other areas,” he said.

When he sold his haul of stones for some four million ariary ($1,200), he bought his own equipment and today manages a small team of nine miners.

But success stories are rare.

Like most of his fellow miners, Albert Soja does not earn wages for his countless, grueling trips underground. To make money, he must find and sell stones.

“Of course it’s scary, but when you want to succeed, you have to take risks,” he said, a woolen beanie pulled tightly on his head despite the suffocating heat.

“Just digging the hole itself takes time, almost two weeks. Sometimes we find nothing ... it can take months to find something interesting.”

Without sapphires to sell, he depends on the mine“boss es ”— gem shop owners, usually of Sr iL an kan origin, in the neighboring town of Sakaraha—forafewhandfuls of rice or manioc to survive.

“The bosses pay for our food and materials, which helps us hold out. Without their help, we would starve,” said Soja.

“After that, we’ re obliged to sell them the stones we find.”

Sitting behind his desk in his gem shop in Sakaraha, Sunil W.J. — as he calls himself — examined his latest buy of blue and pink and light yellow sapphires under a lamp.

A stone that fetches $300 in Sri Lanka costs him less than a tenth of the price to buy from a miner in Madagascar.

“Some days are better than others, but this business has a future,” said Sunil.