When we visited the city of Colón on Panama’s Caribbean coast in February, a woman named Argentina stood in front of a collapsing building, surrounded by plastic bags filled with her belongings. “I don’t want to go,” she said. “I don’t want to.” She was fifty-four years old, with golden hair and a tattoo of the word resiliencia on her arm. She had lived in the building since 2005, when she’d bought her apartment for two thousand dollars, moving with her husband and four children into this place not so different from their previous home a few blocks away: both had mildewed walls, rancid air, holes in the floor. The government was relocating them to a new apartment outside the city, one it assured them would be an improvement on these conditions. But Argentina, like her neighbors, had no interest in leaving her home.