Bantako, Senegal – In the remote southeastern corner of Senegal, nestled within the Kedougou region, the village of Bantako has become a magnet for thousands of hopeful artisanal gold miners. Over the past two decades, what was once a quiet farming community has transformed into a bustling hub of small-scale mining activity, driven by soaring global gold prices and economic desperation.
Despite the recent surge in gold prices, partially attributed to geopolitical instability and trade tensions under U.S. President Donald Trump’s economic policies, the gold miners of Bantako are seeing little of the wealth. Many continue to toil in harsh conditions, receiving just a fraction of the metal’s world market value from local traders and middlemen.
One such miner, Amadou Diallo, has been digging for gold for several years. He knows the risks but sees few alternatives.
“It’s not that deep, you know—maybe 10 or 15 metres,” Diallo said, wiping sweat from his brow under the scorching sun. “Wherever we are, we have to work anyway. You have to seize your opportunities.”
Bantako’s gold rush mirrors similar artisanal mining booms across West Africa, where communities have turned to informal mining in response to high unemployment and limited opportunities. But in Bantako, the economic opportunity has come at a high price—environmentally and health-wise.
Mercury’s Toxic Legacy
The process used to extract gold here is both rudimentary and dangerous. Miners use mercury, a highly toxic metal, to bind with tiny particles of gold found in the soil. Once the mercury amalgamates with the gold, the mixture is heated with a blowtorch, causing the mercury to vaporize and leaving behind a small nugget of pure gold.
While the method is effective and accessible, the consequences are devastating. Mercury is a persistent environmental toxin known to pollute water sources, contaminate soil, and release poisonous fumes into the air. The health risks include lung diseases, neurological damage, and birth defects.
Environmental activist and local farmer Doudou Drama has witnessed the damage firsthand.
“It’s really a great sadness for me to see the trees die,” Drama lamented. “Mercury is a very dangerous product. It poisons the soil. It poisons the air. And it can cause lung diseases and deformities in babies.”
Drama, who has worked the land in Bantako for years, says that agriculture—the traditional livelihood in the area—is no longer viable. Contaminated soil has led to poor harvests and declining food security. “We used to grow millet, maize, and groundnuts. But now the land is sick,” he said.
Government Struggles to Ban Mercury
The Senegalese government, in line with international efforts to phase out mercury under the Minamata Convention, has made multiple attempts to ban its use in gold mining. However, enforcement has proved difficult in informal mining communities like Bantako, where oversight is minimal, and miners operate far from government supervision.
“The challenge is not only technical but socio-economic,” said a Ministry of Environment official who spoke on condition of anonymity. “When people have no alternative income, they will continue to do what they need to survive, even if it’s dangerous.”
Although Senegal ratified the Minamata Convention in 2016, efforts to introduce mercury-free gold extraction techniques, such as gravity concentration or cyanide leaching, have largely failed due to high costs and lack of awareness among miners.
International organizations and NGOs have tried to intervene by offering training and equipment for safer mining practices. But uptake has been slow. In a community where profits are measured in grams and survival is day-to-day, long-term health and environmental concerns often take a back seat.
Risk vs. Reward: Life on the Edge
For miners like Diallo, the promise of even a small gold find outweighs the dangers. On a good day, a single prospector might earn the equivalent of $10 to $20—a small fortune compared to average daily wages in rural Senegal.
But with that modest income comes intense physical labor and constant exposure to mercury. Many miners suffer from chronic coughs and skin rashes, ailments they’ve come to accept as part of the job.
“You feel it in your chest sometimes,” said 27-year-old Mohamed Ba, another miner. “But we wear scarves or pieces of cloth over our mouths and keep going. If you stop, you go hungry.”
Local traders, often linked to regional smuggling networks, buy the gold and sell it to refineries abroad. The miners, however, rarely see more than the lowest prices for their hard-won product. And with no formal regulation, no taxes are paid, and no benefits accrue to the state or community.
Looking Ahead
As global demand for gold continues to rise, driven by economic uncertainty and inflation fears, artisanal mining in places like Bantako is unlikely to slow down. But unless systemic changes are made, the cost will remain tragically high—for the miners, the environment, and future generations.
Experts believe a multi-pronged approach is necessary: regulation, alternative livelihoods, better technology, and sustained government commitment.
“Mining doesn’t have to be destructive,” said Dr. Fatou Sow, an environmental scientist with ECOWAS. “But if we keep prioritizing short-term gains over long-term sustainability, we will all pay the price.”
For now, Bantako remains a village suspended between hope and hazard—where every glint of gold in the soil hides a deeper shadow of suffering.
Africa Live News will continue to monitor developments in Bantako and similar mining regions across West Africa.
