January 16, 1989, Tomatlán, Mexico. I was sitting on the left side of a second-class bus two rows behind the driver. No one bothered to get off for the ten-minute stop in Tomatlán. The driver’s assistant stood at the front of the bus ready to collect tickets from any boarding passengers, but there were none. As we sat parked in the street with the engine running, I took in the view from my window. The cinderblock buildin...