On the back of a large, round, and weighty serving tray, typically reserved for important occasions, the owner's initials are inscribed in bold red nail polish, proudly claiming it as her own and making it easily indefinable if ownership is disputed by a neighbour or relative. Over time, she purchased five more trays, and together with her enormous collection of white serving dishes and bowls, she is prepared for all occasions and any large gatherings. Crafted from original china, these items of crockery are extremely resilient. Today the trays and china are being used for her cousin's daughter's wedding, arranged around the repurposed yard where each woman occupies her corner near her coal stove burner, enthusiastically preparing the dishes they claim mastery over. The young men, tasked with sourcing the cooking ingredients, often find themselves navigating the labyrinth of the chaotic scene, backward and forward, trying to get everything on the numerous lists.  

Beyond her serving trays and crockery, the owner takes pride in the rest of the pots, pans and cooking utensils she has managed to buy through a cash savings initiative she has been part of for many years. The woman in the corner of the yard organised the cash saving scheme, with the view of saving for her own daughter's wedding. Known as the sandug (box) each woman puts a specified amount of money into a savings pot and each month one woman receives all the money for large items or expenses. Sometimes the money is used to buy communal items, necessary for neighbourhood occasions, which are stored in the local mosque's storeroom. For Sudanese women, this sense of saving and economising is like a sixth sense. They will scrimp and save whatever funds they have access to and will often give their unsolicited advice on ways to save for the future to everyone around them.  

The sandug has proven invaluable, particularly during critical times when funds are needed urgently, to pay children’s university fees or for medical expenses for example. And while each woman knows roughly when it will be her turn to receive the cash, there is an understanding among the group that if the need arises, a woman will forgo her turn to help out another. This sense of solidarity among the women is the glue of their communities and animated tea-drinking sessions, where gossip and grievances are shared, is where this profound connection blossoms. 

The tray owner, acting as the de facto household bank, is finely tuned to the market economy. In addition to the sandug she diligently puts aside any surplus money and invests it by, for example, buying gold at the Omdurman market, in order to preserve the money’s value for future use. The fat gold bracelet she carefully selected and purchased may appear to be an ostentatious show of wealth; however, it is in fact a valuable reserve, readily and hastily exchanged when a genuine need arises.