“Yospa, poor you, how pretty you looked only 12 months ago, and now...” She bit her lip, staring up into the murky night.

She entered her home; it was lit by two bulky lanterns at either corner of the main family eating area. Puffed pita breads were neatly stacked on the wood-chopped sideboard, ready for tomorrow’s breakfast. Daliza was on duty tomorrow to feed her seven brothers and sisters, who were now all fast asleep.

The loud Arabic music from the Yemenite neighbors did not allow anyone to retire after a hard day of work. The day was spent outdoors planting and gathering more herbs for Yospa.

The family used the herbs to produce creams, which Daliza then massaged into Yospa’s skin. She plugged her ears from the frightening yells Yospa would make when the cream stung her damaged skin.