For di Rivers of Babylon

Di river dey flow pass, e wide and e slow. One line of harps hang for di branches of di trees, dey shake small for di breeze. Nobody dey play dem. Di people wey get dem sit down for di river bank, and dem dey cry.

Di year na around five hundred and eighty-six before Christ. Di armies of Nebuchadnezzar, king of Babylon, don break di walls of Jerusalem. Dem don burn di city, dem don destroy di temple of Solomon. Dem don march thousands of people from Judah go east, hundreds of miles, go Babylon, for di place wey dem dey call Iraq today. Babylon na big city for di river Euphrates, with canals wey pass through di farms all round am. E rich and e dey impress person. But e no be home. Among di captives, singers and musicians dey, people wey dey lead worship for di temple before. One of dem later write song about dose days. We know am as Psalm one hundred and thirty-seven.

E start like dis: For di rivers of Babylon, na there we sit down, yes, we cry, when we remember Zion. Zion na another name for Jerusalem, di hill where God temple stand. Picture am. Evening near di water. People wey don lose dem houses, dem city and dem place of worship. Dem think about di steps of di temple, di festival crowd, di songs wey dem dey sing there before. And tears come. We hang our harps for di willow trees wey dey there. Dem still carry dem instruments, but dem no fit bring demself to play. Di music don comot from inside dem.

Then somebody come along di river bank. Babylonians, di people wey capture dem. And dem want entertainment. Oya, dem talk. Una people of Judah popular for una songs. Sing one of di songs of Zion for us! E fit be say dem dey tease, or e fit be wickedness. Any way wey e be, dem want make di songs of God temple turn to show for di people wey destroy am. And di singer ask di question wey dey di heart of dis psalm: How we go sing Di Lord song for strange land? How we go sing dose songs here, to dem, as if nothing happen?

Then di singer make promise, loud, so dat everybody go hear. If I forget you, O Jerusalem, make my right hand forget im skill. Harp player dey play with right hand. Make my hand forget how to play if I ever forget you. If I no remember you, make my tongue hook for di top of my mouth. Make I no ever sing again if I no keep you first for my heart, pass my greatest joy. Dis one no be song of giving up. Na song of holding on. Babylon fit take dem houses. E no fit take dem memory of God and im promises. And remember how dis story end. About seventy years after dem carry di first exiles go, God bring im people come back home, and dem sing again for Jerusalem.

Di musicians of Jerusalem really popular. More than one hundred years before di exile, di Assyrian king Sennacherib surround Judah for war. Im own record of di war, wey dem carve for one clay prism wey dey di British Museum now, list di tribute wey King Hezekiah send give am: gold, silver, ivory, and male and female musicians. Big big empires want di singers of Jerusalem. No wonder di Babylonians ask for song.

You go find dis song for Psalm one hundred and thirty-seven, verse one reach six. Exiles wey no fit sing, but wey no go forget. So see one question wey you go carry dey go. When you dey somewhere wey be like say e far from God, how you fit keep remember am?