Silent Observations from the Balcony

 

By Bibisinuoluwa Agarah

My balcony is neither entirely part of life within the hall nor fully detached from the chaos outside. It’s a boundary-liminal space to watch without being watched and to think without interruption. 

The hall is alive. Girls mill about in twos and threes, some laughing on the phone, others glued to their screens, texting with furrowed brows or grins that betray the thrill of a secret conversation. A few carry buckets, the weight of water tilting their posture as they make their way to and from the tanks. Others sit on the bridge, legs dangling over the edge, chatting animatedly as the sun begins to set and the stars come out. The occasional burst of laughter floats upwards, punctuated by snippets of conversation that vanish as quickly as they arrive, fragments of lives I can only glimpse but never fully know.

At the cafeteria, a small group of students hunched over their books, their faces bathed in the harsh glow of solar floodlights. Their dedication is palpable, a mix of determination and fatigue that seems to hang in the air. I wonder: what drives them? Is it the dream of academic excellence, the fear of failure, or something more personal? Perhaps they’re chasing something intangible—a scholarship that promises escape, a career that secures their future, or the simple relief of passing one more test. Everyone has a story, though it’s often hidden beneath the surface.

The rhythm of life here is both chaotic and oddly predictable. From this balcony, I’m not just a passive observer; I’m part of the scene, even if my role is a silent witness - each laugh, each hurried step. It’s a community, even when it doesn’t feel like one. The chipped paint and cool stone floor of this balcony have become my retreat, a place to reflect and recharge before diving back into the fray of hall life.

If I go to the higher floors, I can see beyond the Hall, the faint glow of the city lights as it spreads across the horizon. They whisper of opportunities and challenges, a constant reminder that life beyond these gates awaits. Each flickering bulb feels like a life in motion—a banker closing for the day, a bus conductor calling out for passengers, or a vendor counting their earnings for the day and the connection between here and there feels unbroken. 

Tonight, the view from the balcony feels like enough—a chance to pause and soak in the quiet moments that often go unnoticed. There’s peace in simply being here, in letting the rhythm of life unfold around me without the need to intervene. Tomorrow, the routine will resume. The girls will laugh, study, and carry water. The city will buzz with its endless energy. But for now, I’ll linger here a little longer, watching life unfold in its endless, imperfect rhythm, and savouring the stillness before it

 slips away.