Blistered cups of coffee are being handed out by a stringy-haired, sweaty man who is wearing an I.V. drip in his arm and a cigarette between his lips. A few people clamber up onto the stage to sit on the rickety chairs that have been set out for them; others stand along the wall or lean against the cracked concrete pillars. The only ones sitting down are those with crutches or canes—they've brought their own seats.