From cutting to packing

Cutting the bunch is not the end: it is the start of a journey. What sets a good banana apart from a spoiled one is decided in the hours that follow, in the packing house. The bunches arrive padded with blankets to prevent chafing, and then comes the dehanding: the hands —fifteen to twenty-five bananas each— are separated from the stalk, taking care not to damage the skin. They pass through the washing line and reach quality control, where they are weighed, measured and graded under the European standard into three categories —Extra, First and Second—; Extra is the most demanding and allows barely a slight surface mark.

Each box is packed with an almost clockwork order, so the fruit travels tightly but without bruising. That practice changed over time: from the big wooden crates of the early 20th century to the “Canarian package” wrapped in paper padding, and on to today's cardboard boxes and refrigerated containers. But behind every box, in any era, there are hands —many of them those of local women— and a collective know-how that rarely appears on the supermarket label.