Warm and welcoming, they line narrow pathways deep inside a mining tunnel, a few of their colleagues going about their routine, unfazed by the presence of strangers in their underground world. “You are welcome,” said one of them, who identified himself as Jean-Paul. “That way,” he added, showing me the direction which the leading group of visitors had taken. “Mind your head,” he says, perhaps noticing I was not bending low enough to avoid a collision with the roofing of this mining tunnel at Rubona concession in Rwamagana sector, some 7km off Kigali-Kayonza Road. Of course, I had personal protective equipment on, including a helmet, an adjustable yellow helmet, protective footwear (a pair of black gumboots), a mask, and a reflective vest. This coltan and cassiterite concession, whose mining license is held by DUMAC, a Rwandan-owned company which took it over in 2013, replacing informal small-scale operations there. Also known as columbite-tantalite, coltan is a metallic ore that contains niobium and tantalum, both used in electronics like computers, tablets, and mobile phones. On the other hand, cassiterite is a tin oxide mineral that is the primary source of tin metal. DUMAC, which I visited on Wednesday, March 5, employs 1,058 people, including the 120 miners working inside and outside of this underground tunnel, in Nzige sector in Rwamagana. Here, DUMAC operates Rubona concession across two sites located in three sectors, including Rubona, Mwurire and Nzige. The tunnel we toured is the longest in this concession, stretching a distance of 1.25km or 1250m, but our nearly one-hour tour covered a network of underground mining routes with a total distance of 300 metres and vertical depth of 200 metres. Jean-Paul’s concern and warning came in handy, as I negotiated a web of small, rough tunnel routes. But I have the helmet that I wore to have for coming out with an intact head or without a concussion. A tour 200m underneath the earth’s surface It was simply impossible to avoid hitting your head on a rock or timber above your head, explaining why the miners kept their helmets on throughout. The 200m-deep tunnel is designed in multiple sublevels, most of the transitions marked by sharp inclines which are difficult to navigate – often requiring holding onto wooden support pillars to descend or ascend. Our tour mostly followed a vertical shaft route, leading us to one of the most advanced human drillers in the tunnel, some 200m from the surface. Like most of the other ‘tourists’, my face is drowning in sweat – not down to the punishing weather conditions we’ve been enduring lately, but a combination of other factors playing out underneath the earth’s surface. Yet, curiously, I saw not a single miner underneath sweating. “How come none of you has broken sweat,” I inquire from a group of young men and women standing on both edges of a cliff, appearing relaxed and being entertained by our voluntary struggles. “This is home, literally,” one woman, seemingly in her late 20s, says calmly, flashing a big smile. “We spend 10 hours down here every single day.” “I have worked here for five years, others much longer, we are used to these conditions, for us down here is business as usual,” a male colleague of hers joins in the brief chat. “Step on the bags,” carefully,” he adds, even tipping me on how to safely descend to the next level. I meet a few men each carrying sacks of freshly extracted ore, comfortably navigating the narrow passages, headed for the exit in a distance equivalent to the length of two football pitches away. ‘Down here you need our company’ A layer below, another group is chatting away in one corner. I ask why they hadn’t gone for lunch (as it was around 12:30p.m), with one woman readily answering, “we couldn’t have left our guests alone. Down here you need our company.” I vigorously nod, in affirmation, humbled by how proud they are for their hugely-challenging job. Our interactions even included sharing a dance underground, my lively friend Ildephonse Sinabubariraga, managing director at Radio Ishingiro, taking on the role of self-styled choir director, much to the delight of our gracious hosts -- the miners. Indeed, the miners' heartwarming enthusiasm across the various layers of the tunnel presented me with opportunities to pause and recharge, and the journalist in me had a couple of questions for them. From their pay to insurance to pension to working hours and general working conditions. Each of them makes at least Rwf90,000 a month, they tell me, visibly grateful. Pay varies depending on roles, with some making Rwf2500 daily, others up to Rwf4000. I learn that those who do the actual extraction inside the tunnel earn the highest. “I'm able to feed and educate my children, and to take care of other needs,” mother-of-two Angelique Mujawamariya, from Gahengeri Sector, Rwamagana, who has worked at the company for 3 years, tells me. Mujawamariya is one of the 352 women who work at this concession. When phones only serve to tell the time The workers subscribe to the government-backed Ejo Heza pension scheme, they tell me. “We have Mutuelle de Sante,” adds another miner, in his 30s, pointing out he has worked at the mine for five years now. “Things are going well,” he beams. The youngest employee at the concession is aged 18 and the oldest 57, we later learn. On a typical day, work here begins from 6a.m until 5p.m, with a one-hour lunch break in between, from noon-1p.m. Then comes one of those hilarious moments. After dialing the mobile number of one of the miners, I try to call it after he has also asked for my number, which they all quickly notice, and burst into laughter. “There is no network here, in fact I leave my phone at home because it’s pointless to carry it with me here,” one of them says, everyone still amused at my failed call. “I only carry my gatorche,” adds another, pulling his small screen feature phone out of his pocket. “I only use it to tell the time.” Standard mobile phones usually lose signal at about 3m beneath the surface. The tunnel, with roofing that’s carefully supported by carbon dioxide-emitting timber, is lit with light bulbs and there are ventilation ducts all over. A dead end Oxygen detectors are used to ascertain the level of oxygen before anyone is allowed to enter the tunnel in the morning while monitoring also goes on throughout the day, officials at DUMAC said. When we finally reached the farthest point on the route we took, there was a young man using a handheld driller to extract ore from a giant white rock. “This is the ore body and it’s the one that contains those small metallic black minerals we get after washing,” a geologist tells me. It was a dead end. We were told we had to go all the way back. One last knock A mountain to climb, I thought to myself. But seeing workers walking up, back and forth, carrying sacks full of ore meant you had no right to sulk or feel sorry for yourself. This was a voluntary adventure after all. Besides, you felt refueled by every enchanting smile that met you at every turn. I have not seen greater motivation. I could have used this energy when I successfully climbed the Great Wall of China last year, albeit with much difficulty. “We wish you God’s blessings,” one of the miners says as I finally leave the tunnel, full of gratitude. But not without one last hard knock against a rock overhead, something Jean-Paul, the caring miner, had made a point to warn me about. Outside, a long line of workers is relaying freshly extracted ore, from one person to the next, all the way down to a first line washing point. The exercise is conducted manually, before the material is then carried to the next washing stage, after which finer, black particles are secured and spread out in the compound to dry. “We supply these to dealers in Kigali, who then take them to processing plants,” said geologist Serge Nsengimana, who works with the company. Next, we headed to an open pit mine several hundred meters away. Along the way, I saw a large drilling machine which is used in exploration work. “We have several of these and it’s part of our effort to modernise our operations,” says Nsengimana. At the open pit mine, there were earth movers at work, carrying out excavation. At this vast site, about 38m deep, the host rock, the ore body, the pegmatites, schists, veins, and sedimentary rocks lay bare, demonstrating the meticulous nature of geological formations and mining work. The Rubona mining perimeter (concession) sits on a 400-hectare piece of land, split into two active mine sites, namely, Kigarama and Manene. While the concession is still heavily reliant on artisanal methods, its production stood at 174 tonnes last year alone, pointing to the promise it holds once DUMAC’s ambitious plans – including scaling its mechanisation and technology as well as plans to set up its own processing plant – come to fruition. The firm operates a total of five underground tunnels and eight open-cast mines across the two sites. The Karagwe-Ankole Belt Nestled between two hills – the Bicumbi Massif to the east and the Nzige Massif to the west –, the concession is located within the Gikoro group formations, part of the wider Karagwe-Ankole Belt geological formation – which straddles five countries, covering the whole of Rwanda and spreading out to parts of Burundi, DR Congo, Tanzania and Uganda. The Karagwe-Ankole Belt covers the northeastern zone of the larger Kibaran Belt, the latter extending beyond the Ruzizi basement south of both Rwanda and the Karagwe-Ankole Belt. Rubona concession sits on the outskirts of the Mugesera granitic intrusions to the south, Rwamagana (Musha–Ntunga locality) to the north, and Kigali to the west, according to Nsengimana. “A significant number of coltan and cassiterite deposits, including those in Rubona, are found around these granites,” he told The New Times. “This geological context explains the metallogenic link between these deposits and the granitic massifs.” DUMAC mining company is just one of the several players in Rwanda’s mining value chain, which includes 99 companies with mining licenses, 17 with exploration licenses, 76 with trading licenses and three processing plants. Rwanda’s mining history pre-dates the arrival of European colonialists (as far back as the 14th century), with early artisanal miners even processing iron ore to produce traditional weapons and agricultural implements, according to the Rwanda Mines, Petroleum and Gas Board. A growing sector In recent years, the mining sector has grown into a key contributor to Rwanda’s economy, accounting for 3% of the country’s GDP, according to the latest official figures. In 2024, the sector fetched $1.75 billion in export revenue, outstripping its target of $1.5 billion. Some of the key minerals in Rwanda include critical raw minerals (tin, tantalum, Tungsten, Lithium, Beryl, and rare earth elements), gold, gemstones (amethyst, sapphire, ruby, tourmaline, spinel, and garnet), as well as industrial minerals. The sector directly employs some 70,000 people around the country.
