From the vantage point of her front porch, a concrete slab in a neighbourhood that clings perilously to one of Tegucigalpa’s mountainsides, Ana Reaños has a commanding view of the Honduran capital and the thin strip of tarmac that serves as its airport.

The panorama and the relatively clean air are just about the best things on offer: her house is cramped, water arrives only sporadically and violent youth gangs take over the maze of steep and narrow streets at night.