A couple of Aklama Figures, Ghana, of high abstract forms, covered with blackened and reddish pigments. Aklama figures occupy a quiet yet powerful place in the dialogue between art and literature. Though they originate as sculpted forms, often associated with ritual, ancestry, or protection, their meaning extends far beyond material presence. In literary imagination, such figures become vessels of memory, embodiments of cultural identity, and silent witnesses to human history. They stand at the meeting point between what is seen and what is told. Literature has long transformed sacred or symbolic objects into narrative forces. In Things Fall Apart by Chinua Achebe, ritual objects and carved forms are not mere decorations; they represent cosmology, authority, and continuity. Similarly, James Frazer’s The Golden Bough examines how ritual artifacts carry mythic structures within them. In this way, Aklama figures can be understood not only as artistic creations but as narrative anchors, holding within their stillness the stories of generations. The presence of a carved figure in a story often introduces tension between permanence and change. Human characters struggle, age, doubt, and disappear, while the figure remains. This contrast gives writers a powerful metaphor. In American Gods by Neil Gaiman, deities persist only as long as they are remembered, suggesting that belief and storytelling sustain existence. Aklama figures function in a comparable way within literary symbolism. They endure because they are narrated, preserved in language as much as in wood or clay. From a psychological perspective, such figures resonate with archetypal patterns described by Carl Jung. The human-like form, especially when associated with fertility or guardianship, reflects deep structures of the collective imagination. T. S. Eliot’s The Waste Land draws upon fragmented cultural symbols to express spiritual desolation, while Madeline Miller’s Circe reinterprets mythic femininity for a modern audience. In both cases, ancient symbolic forms are revived through literary voice. Aklama figures similarly lend themselves to reinterpretation, becoming expressions of creation, endurance, and sacred continuity. Postcolonial literature adds another dimension to the meaning of traditional artifacts. Writers such as Ngũgĩ wa Thiong’o and Achebe examine how cultural objects become contested under colonial pressure. A carved figure may transform from sacred heirloom to museum exhibit, from living ritual presence to displaced artifact. Through storytelling, however, literature reclaims such objects, restoring context and voice to what might otherwise be reduced to aesthetic curiosity. Perhaps the most compelling aspect of Aklama figures in literary imagination is their silence. They do not speak, yet they compel speech around them. Their stillness invites reflection, memory, and interpretation. Authors use this silence to explore themes of suppressed histories, ancestral wisdom, and resilience. The figure becomes a quiet center in the narrative, absorbing conflict while symbolizing continuity. In literature, then, Aklama figures transcend their physical form. They become metaphors for endurance in the face of erasure, for identity preserved through storytelling, and for the sacred dimension of cultural memory. Through fluid narrative, writers transform carved matter into living meaning, ensuring that what stands silent in space continues to speak across time. Source: AKLAMA, Helfergeister des Ewe und Dangle, die Studiensammlung von Horst Antes. Studienstiftung Horst Antes. Weitere Projekte mit diesen Skulpturen, die Montessori Schule : https://www.aklama.net/Aklama-Montessori.html CAB33960 Height: 20 cm / 21 cm Weight: 85 g / 90 g