Mercury House

And a picture that I snapped outside the Mercury House in Zanzibar.  This is, at least allegedly, where the young Farrokh Bulsara, later much more famously known as Freddie Mercury, lived as a young boy.  Of course, there is also something akin to a cottage industry in Zanzibar in promoting houses associated with Mercury's life.  As with so much of the trip, it featured a very teachable moment because his family were Zoroastrians, one of the world's oldest religions and one that has been dwindling away for years, with Zanzibar being one of the last centers.  I told the story (recorded elsewhere somewhere on this increasingly unwieldy blog) of the epic dart competition wherein Team Scudder defeated Team Zale and it was declared, officially and irrefutably, that Bohemian Rhapsody could never be played again.  Sadly, apparently I'm the only one who respects the law - and, as everyone knows, I'm all about respecting the rules and authority.

One of the students on the trip, the normally trustworthy and affable Emily, broke every cardinal rule of polite society by singing the lyrics of Bohemian Rhapsody, quite loudly, as we walked through the winding passageways of the old market in Zanzibar, in response to the story of my heroism.  Clearly she's going to have to flunk the class.