Did slaves pick your tomatoes?

The Sea of Plastic, on the rugged, desert-like tip of southern Spain, stretches across the equivalent of more than 57,000 football pitches. It is larger than Malta and the Isle of Wight. It is the most visible man-made structure from the Earth’s orbit. 

What can be seen are the off-white polyethylene covers of industrial greenhouses. Tens of thousands of them have invaded the natural Mediterranean landscape, a blend of dark craggy mountains, deep blue ocean and a bewildering variety of cacti. 

“I’ve never seen anything like this place before,” says Yahaya, a 25-year-old from Dakar, Senegal who reached Spain by boat seven months ago in search of work. “When I arrived, I felt like it was the end of the world here — like I arrived on Mars.” 

Every year, this vast, otherworldly topography in the province of Almería produces four million tonnes of fruits and vegetables, notably sun-hungry crops like tomatoes, peppers, courgettes, cucumbers and melons. Most are destined for dinner tables in Germany, France, the Netherlands and Britain, with demand sky-high in winter. 

From December to February, one in every six tomatoes eaten in the UK is likely grown in Almería. All nine major British supermarkets — Aldi, Asda, Co-op, Lidl, Marks & Spencer, Morrisons, Sainsbury’s, Tesco and Waitrose — buy from here. 

It’s an eye-watering €3.5 billion industry, representing almost a fifth of Spain’s total agricultural exports and 40% of the region’s GDP. Yet, for all this immense wealth, it is an industry that is powered by exploitation and slavery.

On 27 August last year, between 3pm and 4pm, a Senegalese man known as Souane died of heatstroke while working on a farm in Almería. He left behind five children and his wife, who for 20 years depended on his support.