THE TABLE

Muserref when asked if she has something in her home that she might like to talk about, directly points a small, white table which stands by the wall in her living room. She seems to be in the need of looking at the table while talking about it as if she is reading a textbook whose secret letters could only be seen and interpreted by her. The moment she starts talking is the one when the very being of the table in the living room starts to come forth as a narration. From that on, the useful object (which still serves for eating, drinking or reading newspapers) extends its physical and material boundaries, and emerges as a container of meaning and memories which, unless being narrated by its owner, remains silent. “Often the meaning of a particular object is completely unrecognizable to anyone but the woman who keeps it and knows the stories it holds.” (3) Such possessions are claimed to function as “a visible diary” which are written in a very subjective manner that unless revealed by the keeper they cannot be figured out.
Muserref says that the table is very important for her as it was bought by her father and given to her youngest son as a present in the eve of a separation in the family. The value of the table, therefore, stems from the memories of a beloved father who passed away thirty years ago and the pain of a separation which, after all those years, still seems to be alive. She also mentions the ultimate attention she pays for keeping this fifty-five-years-old table ‘one piece.’ She says she warns the guests for not to hold it carelessly as she fears that it may be broken down and paints it from time to time in order to enable a fresh look. This particular narration of an old, wooden table reveals the character of a common practice among women in the sense that they preserve and protect personally and collectively meaningful objects in their domestic surroundings.