STORY 1157 — KAYAK

I was 23 years old in 2003, shortly after completing the commissioning ceremony of PALAPES Tentera Darat at Universiti Sains Malaysia (USM). A group of university friends, most of whom were also my PALAPES comrades, organised a kayaking expedition around Penang Island, starting from the mainland.

We had spent several weeks at the main USM campus in Penang preparing for our commissioning. Our bodies were still in excellent physical condition, our spirits were high, and with some semester break remaining, we decided not to return home. Instead, we took the opportunity to embark on another challenging adventure.

With more than 20 participants, we gathered at Pantai Robina, Butterworth, for training and a safety briefing. We familiarised ourselves with the kayaks and prepared ourselves for the various possibilities we might encounter during the expedition.

The plan was simple: from Pantai Robina, we would travel around Penang Island from the north, continue down towards the south, and eventually return to Pantai Robina by crossing under the Penang Bridge. Several pit stops had been identified along the route, and a Marine Police boat would escort the convoy throughout the journey.

The first day went smoothly.

The sea was relatively calm, and eventually we arrived at Tanjong Bungah. Just like at Pantai Robina, we simply slept by the beach, using ponchos and simple tents as our shelter.

At Tanjong Bungah, however, we found ourselves sleeping inside a dragon boat that had been left stranded along the beach. It was certainly not a five-star accommodation, but at 23, surrounded by good friends and adventure, it was more than enough.

Before the expedition, we had already been briefed about the challenges we might face. As newly commissioned military officers, we accepted those challenges with determination and readiness.

On the second day, however, the Marine Police informed us that the sea had become rough and was no longer safe for us to continue.

After a discussion among the team, we decided to turn back towards Pantai Robina.

As we made our way back, the waves gradually became rougher, reaching around half a metre in height. At one point, with the kayak in front almost eight metres away, I could no longer see it clearly because of the waves.

For the first time, a little fear crept in.

What if the kayak overturned?

Looking at the increasingly turbulent waves, the convoy leader eventually decided that we should stop at Batu Ferringhi Beach.

We changed direction and began moving towards the shore. With the waves pushing strongly against us, our kayaks nearly overturned as we approached the beach.

We stayed around Batu Ferringhi for a while, waiting for the sea to calm down.

While waiting, we took the opportunity to walk around the Batu Ferringhi tourist area and take some photographs. It was an unexpected break in the middle of an adventure.

By noon, the wind began to weaken and the waves gradually became calmer.

We resumed our journey from Batu Ferringhi towards Pantai Robina.

The scenery along the way was unforgettable—the waves, the coastline of Penang Island, boats occasionally passing by, and, from a distance, the magnificent Penang Bridge standing across the horizon.

It was tiring, but incredibly exciting.

Late in the afternoon, we finally arrived back at Pantai Robina.

We packed away the kayaks and rested that night after a long and exhausting expedition.

Years later, another memory of kayaking came back to me.

At the USM Engineering Campus in Seri Iskandar, there was a former tin-mining lake that had been converted into a recreational lake, with kayaks provided for students.

The moment I saw those kayaks, I became excited.

Whenever I had free time, I would go kayaking in the evening.

Looking at these old photographs today brings back so many memories.

I was young.

My body was strong.

My energy seemed limitless.

And there were always friends around me, ready to take on another adventure together.

Those were opportunities that came only once in a lifetime—and perhaps would never be repeated again.

These few photographs also made me reflect on something much deeper:

Youth is incredibly short.

We often think we have plenty of time when we are young. But before we realise it, those years have passed.

So, while we are young, use that time wisely.

Take part in healthy and meaningful activities. Build friendships. Explore. Learn. Challenge yourself. Create memories.

And most importantly, be grateful for the good people who surround us along the journey of life.

Youth comes only once.

Make the most of it.

Live it well.

And one day, when you look back, make sure you have a great story to tell.

That is my story today.

STORY 1156 — ENGINEER

Last week, I attended my second child's graduation ceremony in the southern part of Malaysia.

It was a proud moment—celebrating his perseverance, excellent academic results, and successful completion of his studies at the MARA Junior Science College (MRSM), beginning in Sandakan and later continuing his studies at another MRSM in the south.

During the award presentation, I found myself waiting to hear whether any of the students had dreams of becoming an engineer.

Alhamdulillah, one of the students did.

He wanted to become a mechanical engineer.

That simple statement made me genuinely happy.

Last year, I had the opportunity to participate in a career session at MRSM Kuala Terengganu. The careers that attracted the most attention were becoming a pilot and a business owner.

Not many students wanted to become engineers.

Yet Malaysia is expected to need around 60,000 professional engineers by 2030.

The numbers behind this aspiration are somewhat concerning. According to data from the Board of Engineers Malaysia (BEM) as of August 2026, there were around 237,000 registered graduate engineers in Malaysia. However, only 10,685 were registered as Professional Engineers.

At the same time, statistics from ILMIA indicated that in Q2 2025, there were 78,342 vacancies related to TVET, representing approximately 27.8% of total job vacancies. The occupations identified included engineers and technicians in mechanical, electrical, electronic, civil and chemical industries.

The Malaysia Education Statistics 2025 also showed that students' interest in STEM increased from 40.95% in 2021 to 50.83% in 2024.

But the bigger question remains:

How many of these students will eventually continue their studies and build their careers as engineers?

Today, we also hear people saying that engineering is a scam.

Spend four years at university studying engineering, only to graduate and receive a salary of less than RM3,000.

So, is engineering really a scam?

For me, the answer is no.

Hearing that a student still dreams of becoming a mechanical engineer reminded me that there are still young people who are not completely influenced by social media—where we constantly see stories of influencers building wealth and becoming millionaires almost overnight.

What is often missing from those stories are the years of struggle, failure, discipline, sacrifice and perseverance that came before the success.

Of course, there are influencers who are genuinely outstanding. Khairul Aming is one example. What I find interesting is that he himself did not deny the value of his engineering education. He studied mechanical engineering at university, built his early career in logistics, and only later devoted himself fully to his passion and became a successful influencer and entrepreneur.

The world is changing extremely fast.

Even global conflicts have entered a different phase. Ballistic missiles capable of travelling thousands of kilometres, drones, advanced weapon systems and sophisticated technologies are reshaping the nature of modern warfare.

Behind all these technologies are engineers, scientists and technocrats.

This is where engineers and technocrats become important in steering the direction of a nation.

We need engineers in various fields—not merely to fill vacancies, but to build a technocratic nation and, more importantly, a nation of creators and innovators.

If someone asks me:

“Why did you choose to become a mechanical engineer?”

My answer would be simple.

Since I was young, I enjoyed building things and helping my mother around the house. Perhaps my mother once prayed that I would become an engineer.

When I entered university, mechanical engineering was not my first choice.

It was actually my third choice, after medicine and electrical engineering.

But I was offered a degree in mechanical engineering, and I graduated with that qualification.

After graduation, I left university life completely and focused on one thing:

finding opportunities and building my career.

I moved between several workplaces before eventually settling into the palm oil industry.

Throughout my career in the palm oil industry, I focused on building important competencies—Steam Engineer, Internal Combustion Engine Engineer, and a Diploma in Palm Oil Milling Technology and Management.

Later, I continued my studies at MBA level and pursued various other competencies, including Lead Auditor for ISO, MSPO and Train the Trainer, among others.

I learned that in every career, there will always be examinations, certifications, competencies and professional requirements that we must go through according to the field we choose.

But after more than 22 years working as an engineer, I have come to understand that engineering is not merely about machines, calculations, drawings or technical knowledge.

For me, engineering is about building systems.

Throughout my career, I have built systems at the workplace—whether related to safety, processes, reliability, productivity, or simply making it easier for people to perform their work.

And there is a principle in Islam that has always resonated with me:

When we make things easier for others, Allah will make things easier for us.

Even when given authority, I must always remember that leadership is an amanah.

The fundamental qualities of the Prophet Muhammad SAW—Siddiq, Amanah, Tabligh and Fatanah—remain important principles for me.

Above all, I try to follow the example of Rasulullah SAW, who was known as Al-Amin—the trustworthy one.

He did not deceive people.

He spoke the truth.

And he carried his responsibilities with integrity.

As engineers, we are sometimes given the responsibility that directly affects people's lives.

That is a very great amanah.

If removing a thorn from a road can be considered an act of goodness, imagine the reward when we create a system that can prevent an accident and save the life of a worker.

That is why, after more than 22 years, I am still an engineer.

Not because engineering is simply a job.

But because engineering gives me the opportunity to build systems, solve problems, make people's work safer and easier, and ultimately serve humanity.

Perhaps that is the real answer to the question:

Why am I still an engineer?

Because behind every machine, every process and every system, there is a human life that deserves to be protected.

That is my story today.

The unsaponifiable matter (unsap)

The unsaponifiable matter (unsap) content in the residual oil extracted from palm oil mill effluent (POME) typically ranges around 1.033% by weight. 

Characteristics of POME Residual Oil Unsaponifiable Matter

Percentage: ~1.033% wt/%w of the extracted residual oil.
Context: POME contains about 0.6% to 0.7% residual oil/grease, which holds minor components like carotenoids, sterols, and higher alcohols that comprise this unsaponifiable fraction. 

Unsaponifiable Matter (Unsap) Range

The normal range for unsaponifiable matter (the components like sterols, tocopherols, carotenoids, and squalene that do not turn into soap) varies depending on whether you are measuring pure oil or the residual oil extracted from wastewater: 

• Crude / Refined Palm Oil: Typically 0.2% to 1.2%. International standards (such as Codex Alimentarius and FOSFA) explicitly restrict unsaponifiable matter to a maximum of 1.0% to 1.3% by weight for genuine edible palm oil.
• Palm Oil Mill Effluent (POME) Residual Oil: Typically 0.3% to 1.1%. POME itself is a watery, acidic wastewater slurry containing about 0.5% to 2% residual oil. When that residual oil is solvent-extracted from POME, its natural unsaponifiable matter sits around 1.03%. 

What it Means if the Unsap is Above 4%

If a laboratory test returns an unsaponifiable matter value above 4%, it indicates a severe abnormality or quality defect:

1. Adulteration or Contamination with Mineral Oils: This is the most common reason for artificially high unsap levels. Because petroleum-based products (like engine lubricants, paraffin, or fuel oils) cannot be saponified by alkalis, any presence of these oils will falsely inflate the unsap percentage.
2. Severe Oil Oxidation and Degradation: Highly oxidized or poorly stored palm oil contains a high concentration of polymerized fatty acids. During testing, these polymers frequently co-extract alongside the unsaponifiable matter, artificially raising the final value.
3. Heavy Concentration of Non-Oil Organic Additives: If the sample is derived from a heavily concentrated POME sludge or pond sediment, the solvent used in the extraction test may have accidentally stripped out non-fatty organic materials (like waxes, heavy pigments, or complex cell-wall material from the palm fruit fiber) rather than pure lipids. 

If you are analyzing this for commercial or processing purposes, an unsap level above 4% means the batch fails standard industrial specifications and is unsuitable for food-grade usage or standard biodiesel feedstock without extensive pretreatment. 

STORY 1155 — LINKEDLN

Yesterday, I asked my second son to open a LinkedIn account.

I am not even sure how to pronounce it correctly until today. He asked me, “Are you asking me to open an account because I want to look for a job?”

I told him, “No. There are many interesting things on LinkedIn, and you should have an account.”

LinkedIn is a social media platform with its own unique impact. For me, I often open LinkedIn to look for something positive that can become my daily source of motivation.

Sometimes, I see people in my professional network sharing their achievements, milestones, projects, or career journeys. In one way or another, their stories inspire me. Seeing other people achieve something meaningful can quietly awaken the desire within us to strive for something similar.

There was a time when I had almost 5,000 followers on LinkedIn. Eventually, however, I decided to close that account for several reasons. Later, I created a new account, but this time I became more selective about the people I chose to follow.

I wanted to build a positive circle.

On LinkedIn, I follow several individuals who consistently share things that I find positive, beneficial and meaningful. One of them is Dato' Dr. Hj. Ahmad Sabirin Arshad, President and Group Chief Executive Officer of SIRIM Berhad.

His academic and professional journey is remarkable.

He obtained a B.Sc. in Marine Engineering from California Maritime Academy in 1986, a Diploma in Education from Universiti Teknologi Malaysia in 1988, a Master of Engineering in Mechanical Engineering from Universiti Malaya in 1990, and a Ph.D. in Mechanical Engineering, specialising in Combustion, from the University of Wales College of Cardiff, UK, in 1993.

Throughout his career, he has been involved in several significant Malaysian aerospace and space-related programmes. He was among the Malaysian engineers involved in the development of MEASAT-1 together with Hughes Aircraft Company, which is now part of Boeing. He was also involved in TiungSAT-1 and RazakSAT, as well as providing technical and logistical support for Malaysia's first Angkasawan mission to the International Space Station (ISS) in 2007.

After serving in SIRIM, he later joined Boustead, where he served as Group Chief Executive Officer before becoming Group Managing Director.

For me, people like him represent a positive circle.

Following their journeys, reading their thoughts and learning from their experiences can become a source of motivation. They remind me that there is always room to learn, improve and pursue excellence in whatever field we choose.

But LinkedIn is not only about looking for a job.

There are many other benefits.

It can be a platform for building a professional personal brand, making our career experience more visible, developing professional networks, building a reputation as a knowledge creator, supporting learning at university—from degree and master's programmes to Ph.D. studies—exploring career opportunities, maintaining a career portfolio, and gaining insights from people across different professional fields.

I gave my son another example from my own experience.

Several years ago, I came across an article on LinkedIn written by a General Manager of a palm oil refinery in Sandakan, Sabah. The article discussed energy efficiency in a large refinery plant. I also learned that he was a competent Renewable Energy Manager.

At that time, I simply followed him and read what he shared.

But one of his articles eventually became a small spark that changed the direction of my own journey.

After reading his article and following his professional sharing on energy efficiency, I became interested in learning more about the subject. A few months ago, I decided to take the Renewable Energy Manager Type 1 course. Eventually, I became a Renewable Energy Manager myself, walking along a path similar to the person whose article had inspired me in the first place.

Think about that.

It started with just one post on LinkedIn.

One person shared his knowledge.

Another person read it.

That knowledge created curiosity.

Curiosity led to learning.

Learning led to action.

And action eventually created a new professional capability.

That is the power of sharing knowledge.

Sometimes, we never realise how far our words can travel or whose life they might influence. A simple article that we write in our spare time may become the very thing that motivates someone else to take a new step in life.

That is why I told my son to open a LinkedIn account.

Not simply to look for a job.

But to learn, connect, share, build and be inspired.

And perhaps, one day, he may also share something that inspires someone else to begin their own journey.

One post can become one spark.
One spark can become one journey.

That is my story today.

STORY 1154 — SAFETY GOLDEN HAT

When our group of companies was acquired by a multinational petroleum company, safety transformation became one of the most significant changes we experienced.

The standards were high—much higher than what the local industry was accustomed to—and compliance was non-negotiable.

One of the key requirements was ensuring that all suppliers and contractors were competent, certified, and fully compliant with strict safety standards.

For us in Lahad Datu, this was a major challenge.

Lahad Datu is not a petroleum-based industrial town like Kota Kinabalu or Sipitang. Qualified vendors, competent contractors, certified riggers, lifting supervisors, and specialised equipment were limited. Distances were far, logistics were difficult, and costs were high.

But safety does not negotiate with geography.

So, the journey began.

We called in every supplier and contractor. We explained clearly what the new safety requirements were and what level they needed to achieve.

But we did not simply demand compliance.

We provided support.

If they did not have fire-retardant coveralls, we loaned them ours.

We shared information on where they could purchase compliant PPE.

When competent riggers and lifting supervisors were required, we brought trainers from Kota Kinabalu and conducted in-house rigging training.

We even sent our engineers all the way to Terengganu to be certified as lifting supervisors.

We began implementing formal lifting plans.

Every crane had to meet the required safety standards.

No exceptions.

There were times when we had to mobilise one of only two specialised cranes available in Sabah just to carry out a thickness inspection on a 42-metre boiler chimney.

The cost was extremely high.

But we never hesitated.

Because safety was worth it.

The first year was tough.

Finding vendors who could meet our safety expectations was difficult. Progress was slow, and resistance was real.

But after more than two years of consistent transformation, the change became visible.

Today, competent vendors are available.

Local contractors have grown together with us.

They are no longer compliant only when working with us—they carry the same safety culture wherever they go.

Our high safety standards became known within Lahad Datu and across Sabah.

They became part of our identity.

That reputation eventually played a role in us receiving our first Golden Hat Award within the company.

Our guiding principle has always been clear:

“Above the industry standard.”

And most importantly, since the end of 2022, we have recorded zero accidents.

No injuries.

No lost-time incidents.

People work with greater confidence.

Trust in the system has grown.

And that, above all, is the greatest achievement.

Because true safety success is not about awards or recognition.

It is about making sure everyone goes home safe.

That is my story today.

Alignment

STORY 1153 THE AWARD CEREMONY

As I approach the age of 50, or what I sometimes call my fifth series, I find myself attending more and more ceremonies where my nieces, nephews, and other young family members graduate, complete their studies, or receive their commissions and awards.

At the same time, my own children have been growing up. Year after year, they too have walked onto stages to receive certificates, awards, and recognition for their achievements.

I have five children, and throughout their growing years, their mother was the one who raised and guided them almost entirely on her own whenever I was away. I was often far from home, deeply focused on my career and responsibilities, trying to bring a halal income back to the family.

One day, I happened to come across an old photograph of my own graduation in 2003, followed by another photograph from my wife's graduation the following year.

I remember my graduation ceremony very clearly. Many members of my family had travelled from Kelantan to be there. It was also a special occasion because, for the first time, I introduced my future wife to my extended family.

Then I looked at the next photograph—the memory of my wife's graduation ceremony.

I was there too.

But strangely, I could not remember much about that particular day.

When I told my wife about it, she began to bring those memories back to me. She reminded me that I had taken leave from work, flown all the way from Lahad Datu, Sabah, and made the effort to be there for her graduation.

She even remembered that I had paid for a photographer so that we could have photographs to remember the occasion.

My wife has always been deeply interested in psychology, although she herself graduated with a degree in Aerospace Engineering. She explained something that made me think deeply.

Perhaps, at that time, she said, I felt safe.

And because I felt safe, perhaps my mind did not hold on to many details of the occasion.

Then she told me something I had completely forgotten.

On that day, none of her family members were there.

She had been very sad.

As she told me that, I could imagine how she must have felt standing there on such an important day of her life, receiving her degree in Aerospace Engineering, without her own family around her.

Perhaps that was one of the reasons I had tried so hard to be there.

I may not remember every detail of that day.

But I was there.

Twenty-two years have passed since then.

My wife has since raised five children.

From their earliest days in PASTI kindergarten, through primary and secondary school, all the way to university, she was the person who showed up.

She attended their school ceremonies, graduation ceremonies, award presentations, parents' meetings, and countless other occasions.

Every certificate.

Every award.

Every small achievement.

She was there.

Sometimes, she would jokingly complain about the long names I had given our children. Filling in school forms became a challenge because their names were simply too long!

But behind that little complaint was something much bigger.

For almost twenty years, she had been carrying the responsibility of raising our five children, often while I was away working.

She never missed their important moments.

She was there even for the smallest school ceremonies.

I think again about her own graduation.

When she graduated with a degree in Aerospace Engineering, there was no family member there to celebrate with her.

Yet years later, when our five children began walking onto stages to receive their certificates and awards, their mother was always there.

She never missed them.

Perhaps that is what makes me look differently at every award ceremony today.

When a child walks onto a stage and receives a certificate, medal, trophy, or award, we naturally look at the child.

We congratulate the child.

We celebrate the achievement.

But behind every child who stands proudly on that stage, there is often someone who stood quietly behind them for many years.

Someone who woke them up.

Prepared their meals.

Checked their homework.

Filled in the endless school forms.

Took them to school.

Attended their meetings.

Comforted them when they failed.

Celebrated when they succeeded.

And kept showing up—even when nobody applauded.

For our five children, that person was their mother.

So, whenever our children receive an award and walk onto the stage, I believe there is another person who deserves to stand there too.

Their mother.

Because if the children are the ones receiving the awards, she is the one who helped them become the people worthy of receiving them.

And perhaps, after all these years, I have finally understood something:

Sometimes the person who deserves the biggest award is not the one standing on the stage, but the one who spent twenty years making sure that the child could reach it.

That is my story today.

STORY 1152 — IEM NATIONAL TOWNHALL

Early that morning, I woke up as usual before Subuh. After taking a shower, I got ready for the morning prayer after waking up my two youngest children. I packed my things into my backpack and then left the house.

That day, I sent my fourth child to school. While occasionally waiting for the line of cars to move along the road, I asked my second daughter what her target was for UPKK and where she would like to go for secondary school later. Every answer came back with the same response: “I don’t know.”

After dropping her off at school, I continued my journey to the nearest car workshop. However, the workshop was still closed, so I changed my plan and stopped for breakfast at a nearby mamak restaurant.

After waiting for quite some time and finding that the workshop still had not opened, I decided to continue my journey to Putra Business School at UPM. A few lecturers whom I had contacted were not in their offices, so I went straight to the third floor of the PBS building to collect my matriculation card.

It was also my first opportunity to meet some of the administrative staff whom I had previously known only through WhatsApp. It was interesting to see several staff members gathering to recite the morning zikir together. I was also informed that I was the first student among those registered for the same course to come and collect the matriculation card.

After completing my business at PBS, I continued to the car workshop in Sri Serdang. Upon arrival, the car was taken into the workshop to have all four worn-out tyres replaced. While waiting, I opened my laptop and spent the time reading several dozen emails and attending to a few work-related matters.

As promised, about an hour later, the car was ready.

I then continued my journey towards KLCC. Before noon, I had parked the car. Only then did I realise that I had made a mistake with the location. The actual venue was the KLCC Convention Centre, not KLCC itself.

With the sun directly overhead and wearing a rather thick suit jacket, I pushed myself to walk across KLCC Park towards the Convention Centre, about 900 metres away.

When I finally reached the lobby, I realised there was actually a shuttle service operating between KLCC and the Convention Centre for participants. Well, I had already walked the distance.

The convention centre was already crowded with visitors, exhibition booths and college students who had just arrived. I took the opportunity to take a few selfies in front of the banners and posters that had been prepared for the event.

After registering, I entered the hall and made my way towards the auditorium where the programme was scheduled to begin at 2:30 p.m.

The programme began with a speech by the President of the Institution of Engineers, Malaysia (IEM), highlighting the six pillars of IMPACT 2030:

Innovation, Membership, Professionalism, Advocacy, Collaboration and Transformation.

It was the beginning of another day of learning, networking and witnessing the engineering profession come together under one roof.

Load bank

A load bank is a device used to simulate an electrical load so that a generator, UPS, transformer, battery system, or electrical installation can be tested under controlled conditions without connecting the actual plant load.

1. Simple concept

Think of a load bank as an artificial electrical consumer.

For example:

Generator → Load Bank → Electrical energy converted into heat

Instead of supplying a factory, the generator supplies the load bank. The load bank deliberately consumes the generator's electrical output and converts most of it into heat.

2. Why do we need a load bank?

A generator may be rated at 1,000 kW, but if the actual plant load is only 300 kW, simply running the generator at 30% load does not properly demonstrate that it can deliver its rated capacity.

A load-bank test allows you to progressively test:

Test load	1,000 kW generator
25%	250 kW
50%	500 kW
75%	750 kW
100%	1,000 kW

This allows engineers to verify the generator's performance at different loading conditions.

3. What does a load bank actually contain?

A typical industrial resistive load bank contains:

• Resistor elements – create the electrical load.

• Cooling fans – remove the heat produced by the resistors.

• Contactors/switches – select different load steps.

• Control panel – controls and monitors the test.

• Meters – measure voltage, current, kW, frequency and sometimes power factor.

• Protection systems – overtemperature, overcurrent, emergency shutdown, etc.

For example, a 1 MW load bank may have selectable steps:

100 + 100 + 200 + 200 + 400 kW

allowing the operator to apply different combinations of load.

4. Types of load banks

There are three common types.

A. Resistive load bank

Most common for generator testing.

It produces approximately:

kW = kVA × power factor

For a purely resistive load:

Power factor ≈ 1.0

So a 500 kVA resistive load bank approximately produces a 500 kW load.

---

B. Reactive load bank

Uses inductors or capacitors to create reactive power.

It is useful when you need to test:

• kVAR

• power factor

• alternator excitation

• voltage regulation

• reactive-load performance

---

C. Combined resistive/reactive load bank

Can apply both real and reactive power.

For example:

500 kW + 375 kVAR

This is useful for more comprehensive generator and electrical-system testing.

5. Example: testing a diesel generator

Suppose your plant has:

Generator rating = 1,000 kVA
Power factor = 0.8

The corresponding real power rating is:

1,000 kVA × 0.8 = 800 kW

During testing, you might progressively apply:

25% → 50% → 75% → 100%

At 100%:

800 kW load

The engineer monitors:

• Voltage

• Current

• Frequency

• kW

• kVA

• kVAR

• Power factor

• Engine coolant temperature

• Lubricating-oil pressure

• Exhaust temperature

• Fuel consumption

• Generator winding temperature

This gives a much better picture of the generator's condition than simply starting it for a few minutes.

6. Load bank and energy efficiency

This is particularly relevant to your energy-management work.

A load bank itself does not save energy. In fact, it intentionally consumes energy.

Its value is in testing and verification.

For example, suppose a standby generator normally operates for only 10–20 minutes during routine checks. The generator may never reach a meaningful operating load.

A controlled load-bank test can verify whether:

Generator → engine → alternator → electrical output

is operating correctly at different load levels.

It can also identify:

• poor fuel efficiency,

• voltage instability,

• frequency instability,

• cooling problems,

• alternator problems,

• protection-system problems,

• inadequate generator capacity.

7. Important distinction: load bank vs actual plant load

This is an important concept.

Actual plant load:

Generator → Motors + Pumps + Fans + Lighting + Process Equipment

Load-bank test:

Generator → Load Bank

The load bank is therefore a test instrument, not normally part of the production process.

8. One important issue for diesel generators

For diesel generators, prolonged operation at very low load can be undesirable. Depending on the engine and manufacturer requirements, sufficiently loaded operation can be important for maintaining proper combustion and avoiding problems associated with light loading.

A load bank can therefore be used as part of a generator maintenance and performance-testing programme.

In one sentence

A load bank is an artificial electrical load used to safely and controllably test the capacity, performance, stability and reliability of an electrical power source without depending on the actual plant load.

STORY 1150 — MENTOR

Everyone standing on that stage that day had a story of their own.

Some people come into our lives only for a short while, yet leave an impression that remains with us for the rest of our lives.

That is the story of Ir. Ong See Boon in my career journey.

I first met him when I was entering my third year of service at Morisem Palm Oil Mill B. At that time, he had just been appointed as the General Manager of the Engineering Group Department at the company level. Before joining our company, he had served with a prominent GLC in the country and brought with him decades of experience in the engineering profession.

From the very first day I met him, I was drawn to his character.

Not because of the title “Ir.” before his name, but because of his humility.

At that time, I was still a young engineer with big dreams. One of my ambitions was to become a Professional Engineer. Having a leader who had already achieved that goal made me feel as though I had found the right person to look up to as a mentor.

He never spoke to me like a boss.

Instead, he spoke like a father guiding his son.

Every word was delivered calmly. There was no raised voice. No ego. Yet every piece of advice carried a deep meaning.

Like rain falling onto soil that had been dry for a long time, his words slowly sank into my mind and became part of the foundation of my career.

However, our time working together did not last long.

Not long afterwards, he moved to another company. Despite that, we maintained our relationship. Whenever I faced challenges in my career, I would contact him to seek his advice and perspective.

One piece of advice from him that I have never forgotten was:

“Do not become an engineer who only understands machines. Learn to manage people as well. If engineering is a science, management is also a science—the science of managing people.”

At the time, I simply nodded.

But more than a decade later, when I found myself holding various leadership positions, managing teams, resolving conflicts and developing people and organizations, I finally understood the true meaning behind his words.

I realised that a great engineer is not simply someone who is good at solving technical problems.

A great engineer must also learn how to understand people.

Time continued to pass.

The demands of life and our respective careers eventually caused us to lose contact for many years.

Until last weekend.

After a small “mission to reconnect”, I finally managed to obtain his phone number. We arranged to meet in Shah Alam.

The moment I saw him walk in, I felt as though I had travelled back in time and become that young engineer who had once learned so much from him.

Today, he is 75 years old.

He still drives himself.

He is still active as a consultant.

He is still articulate.

His thinking is still sharp.

Although he underwent heart surgery almost a year ago, his spirit and enthusiasm for life remain remarkable.

We talked for several hours.

About the old days.

About how the engineering profession has changed.

About the challenges faced by the younger generation.

And about life.

Before we parted, he gave me another piece of advice—perhaps more valuable than all the engineering knowledge he had ever shared with me.

He said:

“No matter how far we go in our careers, and no matter how much wealth we accumulate, as we grow older, make sure our family is always by our side. Do not spend the remaining years of your life alone, without your family.”

The words were simple.

But the more I thought about them, the deeper their meaning became.

That very evening, he told me that he was planning to take his wife out for dinner to celebrate her birthday.

I smiled when I heard that.

Perhaps that is the true definition of a successful life.

Not merely the position we hold.

Not merely the title “Ir.”

Not merely the decades of experience we accumulate.

But when we reach the later chapters of our lives, there is still a hand holding ours.

There is still someone waiting for us to come home.

There are still children and family who give us a reason to smile.

I came to meet a mentor to remember the past.

But I went home carrying a new lesson about the future.

Thank you, Ir. Ong See Boon.

Some teachers teach us how to build a factory.

But great teachers teach us how to build a life.

May Ir. Ong See Boon and his wife be blessed with continued good health, happiness, and many more meaningful years together.

That is my story today.