In 1972, my parents were murdered by Idi Amin's soldiers in Uganda. I was 4 years old. I was taken by my brother in the middle of the night to a hiding place in the north of the country, and from there we were discovered by aid workers and taken to a temporary orphanage. In early 1973, we were flown out of Uganda to the UK. I believe the pilot of the plane, a woman, was the late Sheila Bell, who died in Scotland not too long ago. I was terrified on the airplane, and was, for most of the long flight, held on the lap of a young woman dressed in a khaki jumpsuit. She spoke some English but mostly spoke to her co-workers on the plane in French I think, and they called her Cori or Correy. I still remember the smell of her dark skin and the curls of her blondish hair almost better now than the feel of my own mother's arms. She comforted me and the other children on that plane. After our arrival in Britain, we were placed in a refugee camp. It was winter and very desolate there. I told her I did not want her to leave me there. She came to visit me and my brother twice that winter but said she had to go work in Central America (I had no idea where THAT was). I did not ever see her after that, and for years after I have searched for some trace of her. Now I find myself here on a site about the music of a man from another culture, but I am certain, that woman was Secorra Plarres-Montes who is mentioned in these posts. I am very sad that she died so young. She has a place in my heart. I am now grown, with a family of my own, and am a great lover of music. Out of curiosity about her, almost more than anything, I have sought out Lawrence Hammond's coyote album. I am trying to reconcile in my mind, these songs with my intense memories of that young woman. Thank you to Mudcat for providing (at least some) answers for me