In the port of the municipality, from whose dike is cut the fajana that exceeds 475 meters from the coastline, the fishermen hose down their boats to spend the long hours in which the magma makes its way into the saltpeter. “The sector has stopped and on top of that we lose space in a year that was already bad,” says Luis, an inshore fisherman based on the Bagañete pier, where almost fifty artisan fishermen work, mired in uncertainty.
You hardly hear more hum than the tremor of Cumbre Vieja in this junction of roads that today exhibits empty docks, moored fleets and brotherhoods closed tight. Only the port bar remains as a point of escape and rest for the workers of the banana plantations who are stationed at the bar to drown the grief.
About 150 families of Tazacorte depend on the waters of the port, but more than half of the island’s population depends on bananas. A group of young banana loaders, transporters and cutters return from their morning shift on a farm in Las Manchas and ask for a round of bottles while commenting, in amazement, that the lava has just destroyed the pipe that supplied irrigation water nearby of 25% of the island’s banana trees, which translates into the loss of almost 20 million kilos of bananas from the farms and greenhouses of El Remo, Puerto Naos and La Bombilla.
“The next few months are going to be very bad,” says Juan Miguel, cutter and carrier for 30 years, who, given the bad forecasts for the sector, has preferred to go directly to unemployment. He says that these last two weeks marked by the eruption of Cumbre Vieja took him on vacation, but “as things are getting, I’d better send myself to move for a while,” he says.
Precariousness
If the coronavirus crisis highlighted the fragile and polluting structures of the capitalist and hyperconsumption system, the tragedy of the volcano on La Palma highlights the precarious and abusive conditions suffered by hundreds of intermediary workers in the banana plantations.
Alejandro, 31, a native of the port of Tazacorte, works for a well-known agricultural services and transportation company in Los Llanos de Aridane, from Monday to Friday, with some overtime on Saturday mornings. His workday starts “when the pineapples are already visible” (around 6:00 in the morning) and, from dawn, he cuts, loads and transports bananas with his colleagues to the different farms on the daily list provided by the warehouse. , until night finally falls.
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In a low voice they comment on the viral campaign for the purchase of bananas from the Canary Islands as a strategy to support the sector, as well as the urgent need to expand aid and subsidies to this industry that produces an average of 80 million kilos of bananas a year on the island of La Palma.
“It seems fundamental and necessary to me that these lines of support be developed, but we will not receive a single cent of these aid or bonuses,” he says. “And as long as the volcano keeps walking, and for many months after, the harvesters will be able to support themselves, but there will be less and less work for all of us.”
Beside him, his partner Gael, 25, who emigrated from his native Peru and settled in the heart of Tazacorte four years ago, looks in the direction of the coastal road that, sectioned by lava, no longer leads to Nowhere. “Before we made more than 20 trips in four trucks,” he says. “Now we have to go around the entire island through Fuencaliente and, between the time that is lost, the price of gasoline at 1.30 and the last minute changes in the accesses, a lot of merchandise is going to be lost. And so, many jobs will be lost».
In addition, the incidence of volcanic matter in the atmosphere has put many of these workers on the razor’s edge, who have been forced to carry out production under extreme conditions. “At the beginning, we swallowed a lot of earth, pulling out the pineapples from the farms that the lava could reach at full speed,” explains Alejandro, who affirms that, since then, “I continue to notice some pangs in my chest.” “The ashes on the ground slip like soap and we have very marked times, with many farms to go and meet.”
One morning when the rain of picón and ashes fell with force on the crops, the workers decided to plant themselves. “We refuse to work under these conditions,” says the carrier. “In the end, the company gave us protective equipment, such as goggles and boots, so that we could work with some security.” And, as his 23-year-old colleague Carlos adds, “we are the ones who do the most sacrificial work and we are the ones who are having the worst time in the sector.” “The irony is that we are the ones who carry out the production: without us, there is no fruit either in the warehouses or in the supermarkets, because this is a chain,” he says. “Then, it would be good if those who complain that they are losing their crops, complain for everyone.”
In this regard, workers reveal that access to isolated populations is not equal for all neighbors. “The other day I had my colleague Fran crying inconsolably in the roundabout of Puerto Naos because they would not let him go to the house to water the garden,” says Alejandro. “But to the farms of the big fish in the area, with land in El Remo or La Bombilla, they send us to calmly cut their pineapples.”
Despite the discouragement, transporters welcome the news that, over the next week, vehicles with greater capacity will move to load more cages of bananas, which reduces the number of comings and goings through Fuencaliente and the potential for loading before the ash further damages production.
For his part, Gael assures that, despite the tiring days of work in the banana plantations, “I have a great time on La Palma.” The reality is that the bulk of the shippers, transporters and banana cutters on the island corresponds to the young population, since the demand for workers is continuous, while unemployment weighs on the rest of the sectors, «above all Since the construction went to hell ”.
“At first, pineapples are very heavy, but then you get used to balancing the weight on your shoulders,” admits Gael, who carries about 25 kilos of pineapples every day. «I came here because I wanted to change my life. And I think that La Palma is the closest thing to half the way between Europe and Latin America», He reflects. “Now things are not looking good at all, I just want this to end as soon as possible, but even with what has happened I can say that I have learned a lot from La Palma.”
Today marks 15 days since the volcano burst in Cumbre Vieja to break hundreds of lives settled on the lava route and overwhelm the entire island of La Palma. Yesterday in the area of Los Llanos de Aridane, Tazacorte and El Paso provided a truce in terms of ash and sand precipitations, since the wind direction turned towards the southeast, although, on the other hand, it increased from remarkable form the explosive activity of the volcano. The tremors registered their highest value in the last seven days and their roars intensified in the late afternoon. “This tremor gets into my ear,” cried a woman yesterday in the Plaza de Tazacorte.
