My African Shelf: Home in Five Objects

My African Shelf is an exploration of belonging told through objects. It’s an invitation to look at the things we choose to keep close and what they reveal about who we are.

My own shelf is steeped in nostalgia, tracing a line from my childhood in Yopougon to my life now in Zurich, Switzerland. The items I picked speak of lineage, migration, and rediscovery. They are a reminder that collecting is not just about things, but about ideas, memories, and the ongoing act of defining who we are.

Les pagnes de mémé (Grandma’s African fabrics)

I remember my grandmother as a quiet, steady presence when we were little, living in Abidjan. After she died, my mother brought back some of her clothes — tops made from kente cloth, and pieces of pagne. I’ve always loved African prints, and having pieces that belonged to my grandmother added a new layer of meaning.

I wear them every summer, styled with denim or white cotton skirts. I once thought about resizing them but never did. Wearing them as they are makes me feel close to her, and to my mother too.

Awalé

I bought this awalé when I went back to Abidjan for the first time after we migrated. I was 17, and to me Africa had become a blurry idea, shaped by negative narratives and other people’s opinions.

But the moment we arrived, I realized how wrong I was. The family welcomed us like we had never left and rediscovering Abidjan — with its warmth and its party scene — was amazing.

I bought this awalé in a market. I’ve had it for over twenty years now, and it’s followed me from France to the UK to Switzerland. It’s probably the oldest object I own.

Aya de Yopougon

I grew up in Yopougon, where the plot of this comic book series is set. I was only eight when we left, so the stories don’t reflect my own memories, but my mother told me it reminded her of her youth.

When the first volume came out, it was a big deal — the French literary scene had never seen anything like it: a graphic novel by an Ivorian woman about everyday life in Côte d’Ivoire. What made Aya so powerful was its simplicity. It showed young women living, falling in love, messing up, growing up. They just happened to live in Abidjan.

That shouldn’t have been revolutionary, but it was.

African Design Books

My first coffee table book was Making Africa – A Continent of Contemporary Design, published alongside the 2015 landmark exhibition at the Vitra Museum in Germany. It offered a forward-looking take on African creativity through design, art, photography, and architecture.

My curiosity about African art began a few years earlier at The Double Club in London — a pop-up by Carsten Höller and Fondazione Prada that reimagined a Kinshasa bar. It showed me how art could be immersive and joyful.

Anyone looking at my collection would understand that I see Africa as a continent overflowing with beauty and creativity.

These books are more than objects to me; they’re a connection to that beauty, a form of preservation.

Braided rug

I bought this rug five years ago at Foreign Agent, a contemporary African art and design gallery in Lausanne. The moment I saw it, it felt obvious that I had to bring it home. Before this, I didn’t know how to integrate African pieces into my space. I stuck to small items, such as cushions, things that felt “easy.” I had this idea that if you wanted a larger African piece in your home, you had to commit to a whole themed décor. This rug changed that. It made me realise that African design can live in a space the same way any other beautiful object does. In the end, it’s about the emotional pull, the story behind it, and how it fits with what you already love.

This rug was the first truly African design piece I welcomed into my home. It marked the beginning of a deeper intention: to collect and live with African design in a way that feels natural and personal.

Alice Gbelia is the founder of Sunu Studio. Follow her on Instagram.