The sun rises over the horizon of the province of El Oro, Ecuador, illuminating a landscape that looks like something out of a dream. But this dream is nothing more than a postcard. Banana plantations stretch as far as the eye can see, an endless green sea that hides a toxic secret. The planes fly overhead, leaving behind them a white trail that falls on the crops like a poisonous rain. The fumigations do not discriminate: the chemical is spread on the banana leaves, but also on the zinc roofs of the houses, the patios where the children play, the dusty streets where the inhabitants walk.

The faces of the plantation workers tell a silent story. Their hands, tanned by the sun and the effort, carry the weight of a job that not only wears out their bodies, but slowly poisons them. Headaches, dizziness, skin rashes and respiratory problems. These are common symptoms, but no one talks about them out loud. The big banana companies, owners of this green empire, operate in the shadows, far from the eyes of those who might question their methods. The inhabitants of the surrounding communities live in constant fear that the air they breathe, the water they drink, is contaminated. But silence is their only ally, because to denounce means losing one's job, means being left with nothing.