Marcelo Guerrero devotes part of each day to hustling lottery tickets in San Salvador. The rest of his time he whiles away in the sprawling shanty village of Zacamil on the edge of the capital, waiting for the government to build him a new house from a nearby pile of concrete blocks. While his two children splash through streams of urine and dirty water, Guerrero reflects on the prospects for his -- and his country's -- future. "Peace would be nice," he murmurs, "but it won't change my life much."
Many in El Salvador share Guerrero's gloomy assessment. People are delighted...
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