Suddenly, as if a whirlwind had taken root in the middle of the town, the banana company arrived and settled in, followed closely by its medley of dead leaves. This medley was disorganised and chaotic, being, as it was, comprised of the human and material refuse of the neighbouring villages. It was a jumble of debris from a civil war that looked increasingly remote and inconceivable. The medley of dead leaves was inexorably pervasive. It contaminated everything with its stench of rancid sweat, profound misery, and sordid death. In less than one year, it threw over the town the several layers of wretchedness that had accumulated during preceding catastrophes. It turned a dusty road with a meandering river on one end and a precarious cemetery on the other into a bustling hamlet partially buried in junk and decomposing garbage. It turned a clean and flowery town square into an agglomeration of grimy tents that exhaled the foul smell of excrements and urine.