A wide, still lake occupies the frame, its surface a pale sheet of light broken only by faint ripples and the thin drift of floating branches. Low hills line the horizon in a soft, continuous silhouette beneath a sky layered with clouds. In the foreground, leaves intrude from the left and the heavy fronds of a tree hang from the upper right, dark against the brightness. Near the lower center, a single figure stands immersed in the water to the chest. Across the surface, concentric rings widen quietly.
The black and white photograph renders the scene in gradations of tone and texture. The swimmer’s presence is small but decisive, a point in an otherwise suspended expanse. Nature appears at once vast and intimate, as if the lake holds the brief inscription of a human body before returning to stillness.
— Olaniyi Omiwale
The photo was taken in August 2023 along Lake Bosomtwe in the Ashanti region of Ghana. I was holidaying with friends at a resort along the lake. Hours before I took the photo, a fisherman from the community had come by on a wooden raft to harvest fish, young tilapia. Our friend Kelechi and his dogs Whiskey and Simba had also spent time swimming in the water.
We must have been singing along to music and dancing or chit-chatting when I first saw ripples on the water. I had no idea what had caused them. The water had clearly been disturbed but the atmosphere was tranquil; in the background a highland full of lush vegetation, and in the foreground, a portion of this large mass of water shimmering in sunlight. It was a beautiful sight. I was grateful I could experience it in person but I wanted to make a photograph so that I would not forget. I also wanted to be able to share with others. As I put my camera up to make the photo, a torso propped up from under the water. I knew then that that body had caused the ripples. Even though the body was not a part of the elements I had intended to freeze in time, I went ahead and made the photo anyway. I was afraid something was going to change quickly if I didn’t take my chance.
The serenity in the photograph is the kind of calm I desire in my personal life. I want that for the larger world and all the small worlds I exist in too. When I see this photograph, I think of all the different ways I observed individuals and groups interacting with that area of Lake Bosomtwe when my friends and I hung out there in August 2023. For us and other visitors to the community, it was mostly space for respite. For members of the community, the water and its banks offer more than a place for rest, it is a source of sustenance and livelihood.
I think a lot about how quickly the state of many water bodies in Ghana have changed in the last few years due to the illegal mining practice known as ‘galamsey.’ Powers that be, at the moment the Mahama-led administration and its relevant state institutions, look on as individuals backed by people close to power wreak havoc despite promises to tackle the menace.
I chose this photo because it is at once a reminder of the beauty and serenity we have been gifted all over the country, and the sheer disregard for these gifts and the precious lives that rely on them.
I come to photography with as much care as possible. When I pick up a camera, whatever format it exists in, I try to be mindful that what is considered a simple act of photographing isn’t causing harm to the people, places, things and phenomena I am making photos of. I listen to the people I work with, I pay attention to their body language and I question my motives. Sometimes it feels like I am doing too much and standing in my own way as a result. But I really just want to be as considerate as I would like people to be when they make photos of me and/or everything I hold dear.
Ama Benewaa Tawiah is a writer and photographer from Ghana. She is currently exploring the relationship between adulthood, urban space, and play, and how these ideas intersect with questions of memory and nostalgia. See more of Ama Benewaa Tawiah’s work on this website.
