STORY 1125 — MONKEY MANAGEMENT

One day, our palm oil mill was visited by the HSSE Director from the United States. During his visit, he sought feedback on various safety-related matters. Among the issues raised were delayed tasks caused by gaps in competency and, more importantly, a lack of ownership among some of the team members.

He then introduced a term that caught my attention:

“Monkey Management.”

I was intrigued by the expression. After the visit, I went on to read and learn more about what monkey management really meant and how it applied to leadership and management.

The following day, I shared what I had learned with several engineers at work.

A year passed.

Then, somehow, the concept brought me back to my first year of working in my first palm oil mill—almost 22 years ago.

One day, my manager called me into his office. He asked me to prepare a letter to be sent to the Department of Environment regarding an issue that needed attention.

Without wasting any time, I returned to the engineers' office and started typing the letter on the desktop computer.

The engineers' office was separated from the weighbridge office, while the manager's office had a glass wall overlooking the engineers' room.

A few minutes after I started typing the first paragraph, I was called back into the manager's office.

As usual, he looked at me with a rather serious expression and asked,

“What are you doing?”

For a moment, I froze.

I replied, “I'm writing the letter you asked me to prepare, Sir.”

He looked at me and said:

“Why didn't you ask the clerk in the office to do it? Why are you typing it yourself? If you are going to do everything yourself, then we might as well get rid of all the clerks sitting in that office!”

Sharp.

Very sharp.

I did not say a word. I lowered my head and walked out of his office.

His words stayed with me.

They made me think deeply about the responsibilities of every individual within an organisation.

There are always plenty of reasons we can give ourselves.

“This letter is important, so I should do it myself.”

“If I ask the clerk to do it, I'll probably have to correct it several times.”

“It will be faster if I just do it myself.”

And eventually:

“Never mind. I'll just do it myself.”

Sometimes, especially when we are young and inexperienced, more senior staff or clerks may give us a thousand reasons why a simple task should not be delegated. And because we want things done quickly and correctly, we take the easy way out—we do the work ourselves.

The problem is that this habit can follow us as our careers progress.

As our positions become more senior, our responsibilities increase. Yet instead of developing our people and allowing them to take ownership, we continue doing their work ourselves.

Without realising it, we become collectors of “monkeys.”

One monkey comes from one person.

Another monkey comes from another department.

Another problem is passed to us.

Another task that should belong to someone else somehow ends up on our desk.

Before long, we are carrying a whole troop of monkeys on our shoulders.

And then we wonder why we are so busy.

Monkey Management is not about refusing to help people. It is about understanding who should own the problem.

A good manager does not simply take the monkey away.

A good manager teaches the person how to manage it.

That day, almost 22 years ago, I did not know anything about monkey management.

I was only a young cadet engineer, barely three months into my career.

But my manager had already given me one of the most valuable lessons in management:

Do not do everything yourself. Give people responsibility. Give them ownership. Let them learn.

Twenty-two years later, a simple conversation with an HSSE Director reminded me of that lesson.

Sometimes, the best management lessons are not found in management books.

They come from a manager looking through a glass wall and asking:

“Why are you doing it yourself?”

That was my lesson in Monkey Management.

That is my story tonight.

Lagu ONE SMILE

Lagu / Lirik : BORNEO RIDER

One smile can start a friendship,

One word can end a fight,

One look can heal a broken heart,

And bring the dark to light.

One smile, one word, one look,

Can change the story of our life,

One heart, one chance, one person,

Can turn the darkness into light.

A gentle hand can lift someone,

A kind word can ease the pain,

Sometimes the smallest act of love,

Can make us whole again.

One smile, one word, one look,

Can change the story of our life,

One heart, one chance, one person,

Can turn the darkness into light.

We never know what tomorrow brings,

Or who will cross our way,

But every little thing we give,

May change someone's day.

One smile can start a friendship,

One word can end a fight,

One look can save a relationship,

One person can change your life.

One smile...

One word...

One look...

One person...

Can change your life.

STORY 1124 — BLOGGING

From 2004 until early 2008, I found myself stranded deep in the interior of Sungai Kinabatangan.

Then, in 2008, I was once again sent into the interior—this time to Long Lama, along the Baram River, near Loagan Bunut National Park.

Life in the Kinabatangan was truly a life in the middle of nowhere. At that time, I depended on a dial-up internet connection with a maximum speed of only 56 kbps. Opening a single website could take several minutes. As for watching a video online—forget about it!

Looking back, those four years could genuinely be described as living deep in the wilderness.

When I started working at a new place in 2008, smartphones were becoming increasingly common, and for the first time I had access to a much better internet connection.

By the following year, my eldest child had reached the age of five and was ready to begin early education at kindergarten. I therefore made the decision to rent a house in Miri. My wife and children would stay in the city while I continued to commute to the plantation on working days.

That was also when I bought my first car—not for myself, but for my wife to use in the city.

From 2004 to 2009, I did not own a personal vehicle. Alhamdulillah, however, the company provided transportation as part of the facilities for my position as a mill manager.

While searching for a rental house, I was fortunate to meet a fellow traveller who had been living in Miri for many years, a teacher named Cikgu Hasan. He had lived in Miri for almost twenty years before retiring.

He was an exceptionally friendly person and had helped many people from Peninsular Malaysia who came to Sarawak, whether to work as teachers or in other government positions. He was also active in bringing together fellow expatriates from Peninsular Malaysia for monthly gatherings, meals, and Yaasin recitations.

He helped me find a rental house, and eventually, my family and I rented a terrace house directly opposite his home.

After securing the house, we registered our eldest child at PASTI Miri. We also subscribed to an internet connection—my first proper high-speed internet service since becoming a plantation worker.

It was a completely different world from the old 56 kbps dial-up connection.

Soon after that, I created my first Facebook account and started my blog, **Kembara Insan**.

One of the main reasons I started the blog was to share stories about the palm oil industry.

At that time, finding information about the palm oil industry was extremely difficult. Very few Malaysians knew about the real stories behind the industry—the challenges, the struggles, the sacrifices, and the everyday lives of people working in plantations and palm oil mills.

That was something I found disappointing.

The palm oil industry has always been an important contributor to Malaysia's economy. Yet the stories of the people working behind the industry were rarely told.

At that time, many political bloggers were also beginning to make the new media landscape in Malaysia much more vibrant. I thought that perhaps there should also be a space where stories about the palm oil industry, plantation life, engineering, and the experiences of people working far away from the cities could be shared.

The blog eventually became more than just a place to tell stories.

When I was preparing to sit for the Steam Engineer examination and later pursuing my Master's studies, I also used the blog as a personal study tool.

I would read my notes, identify the important points, and record them in the blog. Once they were published, I could access those notes through my smartphone wherever I was—even while working deep inside the plantation.

What started as my personal revision notes eventually became useful to many other candidates preparing for the same examinations.

And the best part was that they could access the notes freely and easily.

In the past, I had to search for notes from senior engineers or colleagues whenever I wanted to prepare for an examination. Through the blog, those notes became available to anyone who needed them. They simply had to visit Kembara Insan.

Over the years, the blog changed from one theme to another, depending on my interests, circumstances, and experiences.

Sometimes it became a technical blog.

Sometimes it became a place to share stories about the palm oil industry.

And sometimes, without me even realising it, it became a personal journal of a man who was constantly moving from one place to another.

Perhaps that is what life really is.

We are all travellers.

We are all khalifah who are temporarily entrusted to live on this earth. We may stay in one place for a while, but eventually we will move on.

Even if we never leave the place where we live today, one day we will all make the final journey—to the hereafter.

Therefore, we should never become too comfortable with where we are today.

For many years, I had also carried a dream of becoming a writer.

Writing on the blog became my training ground.

Every story I wrote was another small exercise in learning how to express my thoughts, record my experiences, and tell stories.

Over time, I accumulated hundreds of posts.

Some of them became references for me, especially posts containing photographs that carried special memories and meaning. Others contained words of wisdom, encouragement, and motivation that I kept for future reference.

There were times when I felt lost, tired, or uncertain about the direction of my life.

When that happened, I would return to some of my old blog posts and read them again.

Sometimes, the words I had written years earlier became the words that encouraged me to keep moving forward.

That is something I have been doing for the past seventeen years.

The blog was never intended to become something extraordinary.

It simply started with a desire to write.

But seventeen years later, I realised that those thousands of words were actually pieces of my life.

They recorded places I had visited, people I had met, lessons I had learned, challenges I had faced, and memories that might otherwise have disappeared with time.

Over the past few months, I began going through the old posts and collecting selected stories to be compiled into a book.

What I once wrote casually on a blog is now slowly finding its way onto printed pages.

Insya-Allah, my first book will be published next month.

Please pray for its success.

Perhaps this is where the journey of Kembara Insan enters another chapter—not the end of the journey, but simply another stop along the road.

And perhaps, after all these years, I have finally understood that sometimes we write not because we want people to remember us, but because we do not want to forget the journey that made us who we are.

That is my story today.

STORY 1123 — ISO 9001: A Lesson That Stayed With Me for 20 Years

My second company was a GLC that had been in the industry for more than 100 years and had, more recently, celebrated its 200th anniversary.

It was also my first time setting foot in Miri, Sarawak — the beginning of another chapter in my life, this time in one of the two Borneo states.

At that time, my boss was a middle-aged man who was exceptionally calm, experienced and wise. He was Javanese, and perhaps that was also reflected in the gentle way he spoke. Whenever I listened to him, it felt almost like listening to a father speaking to his son.

Every word carried wisdom.

I spent almost a year working deep in Kuala Baram, nearly three hours from Miri. After having worked in the interior of Sabah, I found myself once again moving deep into the interior of Sarawak.

To reach the mill, we had to travel about 120 km from Beluru towards Long Lama. From the Beluru junction onwards, much of the road was gravel rather than paved. At Sungai Bok, there was a stretch of about 30 metres on the main road that frequently flooded during the rainy season and high tide.

After more than 20 years in the palm oil industry, I now realise how grateful I am for those first 10 years of my career.

I deliberately took on assignments in places where, as we used to joke, "ghosts and spirits were the only neighbours."

Those experiences taught me something that has stayed with me until today: to appreciate whatever blessings come our way.

If we have a reliable vehicle, a good road, and can safely reach our destination, that itself is a tremendous blessing.

Somewhere else, there are people struggling just to reach a destination to find food, go to school, or get to a hospital.

The Visiting Engineer

Every three months, my Javanese boss would make a routine visit as the Visiting Engineer.

I can confidently say that the visiting system, followed by a comprehensive report and systematic follow-up, was one of the best management systems I learned during my career.

He would spend almost a week at the mill, conducting detailed inspections — from individual stations and plant operations to the monthly financial reports.

Only later did I realise that this company was also among the early companies whose palm oil mills were all certified to ISO 9001.

For a palm oil mill located deep in the interior to have had an ISO 9001 certification system since the 1990s was, in my view, something remarkable.

That was where I first gained exposure to ISO 9001.

Every year, internal auditors from other mills would visit to conduct audits. The findings and reports were shared across all operating units.

This created another valuable opportunity: I got to meet colleagues from other mills and learn how different mills operated.

During his mill inspections, my boss would walk through the plant and point out areas that needed attention. Follow-up actions would then be initiated, and the responsible teams were expected to close them properly.

The system created discipline.

And without realising it at the time, I was beginning to develop a deep interest in management systems and ISO certification.

The Training That Changed My Direction

One of the elements I particularly liked about ISO 9001 was the emphasis on training and competency.

And I genuinely enjoyed training people.

Through training others, I gradually improved my own communication and leadership skills.

More importantly, training had to be properly recorded and documented. Those records later became valuable references during audits by regulatory and certification bodies such as JKKP, DOE, RSPO and ISCC.

To become an internal auditor, formal training was required.

But once again, my boss gave me advice that was far more valuable than I realised at the time.

He suggested that I attend ISO 9001 Lead Auditor training, rather than limiting myself to internal auditor training.

The difference was significant — three days versus five days.

I followed his advice.

At that time, the company only approved training for internal auditors. So I made a personal decision to invest in myself.

I paid for the ISO 9001 Lead Auditor course with my own money, flew from Miri to Shah Alam, and took annual leave to attend the five-day program.

It turned out to be one of the best long-term investments I have ever made.

The course was conducted by an international trainer, and it gave me a much broader understanding of ISO 9001 and management systems.

From ISO 9001 to Integrated Management Systems

In 2015, I joined another company — a newly commissioned solvent extraction plant and refinery.

I was involved in commissioning the various plant units and subsequently in obtaining several important certifications required by the business model, including:

ISO 9001, GMP, Halal, Kosher and ISCC.

Over the following years, I also helped another company establish and obtain certifications for ISO 14001 and ISO 18001, covering environmental and occupational safety management.

Eventually, these systems were integrated into an Integrated Management System (IMS) covering quality, safety and environmental management.

Did I have previous experience with all of these systems?

No.

I didn't.

But I had something more fundamental — a strong foundation in ISO 9001.

That foundation became the platform upon which I built my understanding of other management systems.

Twenty Years Later

Looking back, I realise that some of the most important lessons in my career did not come from a classroom.

They came from a quiet, experienced boss who patiently showed me how a good management system should work.

At the time, I did not know that his advice would influence my career for the next 20 years.

I did not know that paying for that five-day Lead Auditor course myself would open doors to a completely different area of professional development.

And I certainly did not know that the simple discipline of inspection, documentation, training, auditing and follow-up would eventually become such an important part of my career.

Sometimes, we meet people who only become significant when we look back.

My former boss was one of those people.

His wisdom did not always come in long speeches.

Sometimes, it came in a simple recommendation.

Sometimes, it came through the way he conducted an inspection.

And sometimes, it came through the quiet example he set every day.

A good boss gives you instructions.
A great mentor gives you a foundation that continues to serve you long after you have left his organisation.

Twenty years later, I am still benefiting from the wisdom of that man.

And for that, I remain deeply grateful.

That is my story today.

Lagu JIWA MERDEKA oleh BORNEO RIDER

Lagu JIWA MERDEKA

Lagu / Lirik : Borneo Rider

 Verse 1

Tanah pernah dirampas,

Laut pernah dikuasai,

Bangsa pernah dibelenggu,

Maruah pernah dilukai.

Namun sejarah mengajar,

Bebas bukan sekadar bendera,

Bukan hanya tanah dan kuasa,

Tetapi jiwa yang mengenal Pencipta.

Pre-Chorus

Ilmu membebaskan fikiran,

Iman menerangi jalan,

Keadilan menjaga insan,

Tauhid menjadi pegangan.

Chorus

Allahu Akbar, aku merdeka,

Bukan hamba kepada dunia,

Bukan hamba kepada manusia,

Hanya kepada-Mu, Ya Allah,

Kuserahkan jiwa dan segala.

Verse 2

Aku manusia, aku insan,

Diberi akal, diberi amanah,

Bukan untuk mengejar kemegahan,

Tetapi menjadi khalifah.

Kuasa bukan untuk menindas,

Harta bukan untuk bermegah,

Ilmu bukan untuk meninggi diri,

Semua akan kembali kepada Ilahi.

Pre-Chorus

Bebas daripada kejahilan,

Bebas daripada kesombongan,

Bebas daripada hawa nafsu,

Menuju-Mu dengan penuh tunduk.

Chorus

Allahu Akbar, aku merdeka,

Bukan hamba kepada dunia,

Bukan hamba kepada manusia,

Hanya kepada-Mu, Ya Allah,

Kuserahkan jiwa dan segala.

Bridge

Penjajah boleh pergi,

Tetapi nafsu masih mengikat,

Negara boleh berdiri sendiri,

Namun jiwa belum tentu bebas.

Merdeka tanah, merdeka bangsa,

Merdeka ilmu, merdeka minda,

Merdeka hati, merdeka jiwa,

Bila hanya Allah tujuan kita.

Final Chorus

Allahu Akbar, aku merdeka,

Dengan tauhid sebagai cahaya,

Aku hamba, namun mulia,

Kerana tunduk hanya kepada-Nya.

Allahu Akbar, aku merdeka,

Bebas dari segala yang memperdaya,

Sebagai insan, sebagai khalifah,

Membawa amanah hingga akhir usia.

Outro

Bukan bebas tanpa arah,

Bukan hidup tanpa amanah,

Kemerdekaan yang sebenar,

Apabila jiwa mengenal Allah.

STORY 1122 — FINANCIAL MANAGEMENT

 

Money is never enough.

Every day, our expenses seem to increase. Even when our spending remains the same, the prices of goods and services continue to rise because of inflation. At the same time, a salary increment of only 3% is often nowhere near enough to keep pace with the rising cost of living.

One of the things I enjoyed most while spending time with my manager at the mill canteen—whether during breakfast, lunch, or dinner, away from the hustle and bustle of mill operations—was listening to him share his experiences, advice, and guidance for life.

Whenever he started talking, I would give him my full attention. I remember looking at his sincere expression as he occasionally took a puff from his cigarette while enjoying a cup of bitter coffee. In the background, the sound of boiler steam and condensate from the steriliser chamber reminded us that the mill was operating.

He shared many lessons with me—lessons that have remained useful throughout my life.

Among the most important were saving money, investing wisely, and using money to develop valuable skills and competencies throughout our careers.

At that time, I was still single, unmarried, and had very few financial commitments. Although my salary was small, I did not consider it a serious problem if I spent almost everything I earned each month.

But everything changed after I got married and started a family.

Suddenly, every ringgit spent had to be carefully considered.

A few years later, I got married and was blessed with our first child. Around the same period, I experienced some problems at work and decided to submit my resignation. At that time, I had not secured another job.

Yes, that was the time of being young and inexperienced. Like many young people, some decisions were made emotionally without fully considering the consequences.

I returned to my hometown because the trip had already been planned earlier. A few days later, however, I was persuaded to reconsider, and my resignation was eventually rejected. So, I returned to work.

On my way back to the plantation, I stopped at the market as usual to buy some basic necessities.

Because I had submitted my resignation, my salary for that month had been withheld.

And the truth was—I had no savings.

Without checking my bank balance, I went to the supermarket assuming that my salary would already have been credited. I filled my trolley with basic necessities.

When I finally reached the cashier, I discovered the truth.

My salary had not been paid.

I stood there embarrassed and helpless. I had no choice but to cancel the entire purchase.

In desperation, I called a friend and asked to borrow RM500. That money allowed me to buy the most basic necessities, including milk for my child and rice, before returning to the plantation.

That incident left a deep impression on me.

It taught me a lesson that I would remember for many years:

Having an income is not the same as having financial security.

Looking back, after getting married and having our first child, I had never really planned our finances properly. Almost everything I earned was spent on the family.

It was understandable in a way. Having our first child brought a new kind of happiness and responsibility. Every need of the child received our attention, but we rarely stopped to consider the long-term financial consequences.

For the first time, I sat down with my wife and openly discussed our salary, expenses, debts, and financial commitments.

We divided our responsibilities. I handed part of the household expenses to her to manage, while I took responsibility for the rest.

That was also the beginning of my savings journey.

I started saving almost 30% of my net salary.

The next step was to reduce my debt.

At that time, my only significant debt was my PTPTN education loan, which I had taken to finance my university studies. I decided to accelerate the repayment by allocating around RM1,000 every month from my salary.

After almost two years, the loan was fully settled.

It was a great feeling to finally be free from that financial commitment.

I also requested my company to make monthly zakat deductions directly from my salary and remit them to the state zakat authority.

Another 10% of my income was set aside as an emergency fund.

Over the years, I came across many financial management principles suggesting that monthly expenses and financial commitments should ideally not exceed 60% of net income.

If our commitments go beyond that level, our financial position can become increasingly vulnerable.

However, with today's challenging economic conditions, maintaining that 60% threshold is not always easy.

The cost of raising a family continues to increase. Basic commitments such as housing, transportation, education, food, utilities, and other necessities can consume a significant portion of our income.

Credit cards can make the situation even worse when outstanding balances are carried forward and high interest charges accumulate.

This is why financial management is not simply about earning more money.

It is about knowing where our money goes, controlling our spending, reducing unnecessary debt, building savings, and preparing ourselves for unexpected circumstances.

My RM500 experience at the supermarket was painful at the time.

But looking back, it was one of the most valuable financial lessons I ever received.

It taught me that we should never wait for a financial crisis before learning how to manage our money.

Start small.

Save whatever you can.

Pay down your debts.

Build an emergency fund.

Invest in yourself and develop competencies that can increase your value throughout your career.

Most importantly, discuss financial matters openly with your spouse and family.

Money may never feel like it is enough, but good financial discipline can make the money we have go much further.

May we all be given ease, relief from the burden of debt, wisdom in managing our finances, and abundant sustenance.

This is my story today.

Soft Launching of my 1st book MY JOURNEY IN PALM OIL INDUSTRY

Soft launching of my 1st Book

Alhamdulillah, by the grace of Allah SWT, my first book, MY JOURNEY IN PALM OIL INDUSTRY, a compilation of short stories and personal experiences from 20 years in the palm oil industry, has been completed and is now in the printing process.

This book brings together stories, experiences, challenges, memories, and valuable lessons from my journey in the palm oil industry — from life at the mill and plantation to the people I met, the challenges I faced, and the many moments that shaped my career and life.

At the same time, I have already started working on the first series of my second book, continuing the journey with many more stories and experiences yet to be shared.

📖 MY JOURNEY IN PALM OIL INDUSTRY
✍️ A personal journey through 20 years in the palm oil industry.

For those who are interested in getting a copy or would like to place an advance order, please contact me:

📱 WhatsApp: 011-26189662
📧 Email: zulkeflim52@gmail.com

Your support, encouragement, and prayers mean a lot to me. I hope this book will serve not only as a collection of personal memories, but also as a source of experience, inspiration, and reflection for those who have worked, are working, or plan to build their careers in the palm oil industry.

Thank you for your support and for being part of this journey.

#MyStoryInPalmOilIndustry #PalmOilIndustry #PalmOil #BorneoRider #MyJourney #20YearsInPalmOil #BookLaunch #SupportLocalAuthor

STORY 1121 — THE ART OF CONNECTING

 

After a few months of becoming part of estate life, the feeling of loneliness slowly began to creep in.

I was far from my family and hometown, surrounded by thousands of hectares of oil palm, in an estate located about 90 kilometres from the nearest town. The area was so remote that even reaching the estate required passing through four main gates belonging to different estates.

The people there simply called it the "Kem". Ie Camp.

To enter the Kem meant entering the plantation or palm oil mill. And being “orang Kem” meant being part of the estate community.

There were no shopping malls, cafés, cinemas, or busy town centers to escape to.

There were only the people of the estate and mill, going about their daily work and responsibilities.

So, if I wanted to overcome the loneliness, I had to learn one important thing:

I had to socialize.

I started joining whatever activities were happening around the estate.

There were football tournaments, club activities that brought together people from different estates and mills, festive celebrations, Merdeka Day gatherings, and various community events throughout the year.

Occasionally, estate workers would invite us to their weddings, aqiqah ceremonies, or birthday gatherings for their children.

These invitations were more than social occasions.

They were opportunities to build relationships.

Then came 2005, when Akademi Fantasia became a nationwide phenomenon.

Every weekend, it became the most anticipated event in the Kem.

It was almost like a weekly premiere.

A screen would be set up around the residential area, families would gather, and everyone would contribute food for a potluck barbecue. People cooked, ate, laughed, and watched the singing competition together.

After spending the entire day working at the mill, seeing everyone gathered together and enjoying themselves was incredibly satisfying.

There were also annual events, such as thanksgiving dinners held after the mill's annual inspection and machinery checks.

Staff and their families would put on performances, while estate managers and their teams were often invited to join the celebration.

During the day, everyone was focused on their respective duties.

But at night, we became one community.

We ate together.

We laughed together.

We celebrated together.

And somehow, all those simple activities made the loneliness and isolation of living in a remote place disappear.

Over the years, these routines followed me wherever I went.

From one estate to another.

From one company to another.

From one state to another.

It became almost an unwritten rule: if there was an invitation, I should be there.

And as a manager, I eventually realized that social connections were not merely about having fun.

They helped us understand people.

They built trust.

And ultimately, they helped us perform our work more effectively.

In 2015, I moved from upstream to downstream, leaving estate life in Lahad Datu.

There were many reasons behind the move, but one unexpected consequence was that I began to miss the lively social life of the estate.

I tried to adapt to my new life in town.

I joined social, welfare, and recreational activities organized by individuals and various groups.

Whenever there was no school activity involving my children on the weekend, we would often go camping around some of our favorite locations in Lahad Datu.

Later, while in Sandakan, I became active in Toastmasters, participating in both English- and Malay-speaking clubs.

Through Toastmasters, I met many new friends from industries far beyond the palm oil sector.

Looking back, two decades in Borneo have taken me to countless places and introduced me to countless people.

Every move brought new faces.

Every place brought new experiences.

And every friendship left behind another memory.

1,001 memories that I still miss today.

After spending several months in Sumatra, I have once again found myself in a new environment.

A different place.

A different culture.

A different community.

But the lesson remains the same.

Even in a foreign land, I have already made a few friends to meet for a drink on the weekend.

Perhaps this is one of the most important lessons I have learned from living and working in remote places:

When you are far from home, you cannot survive on your own for very long.

You need people.

You need friendship.

You need community.

And sometimes, the simplest invitation to sit down, have a meal, watch a television series, drink a cup of coffee, or simply talk can make an unfamiliar place feel a little more like home.

After all, wherever we go, it is the people we meet that turn a place into a home.

That is my story for today.

STORY 1120 — SUSTAINABLE PALM OIL MILL – Part 5: Steam Boiler

When I graduated with a degree in Mechanical Engineering from Universiti Sains Malaysia (USM) in 2003, I had never seen a real steam boiler, let alone understood its operation in depth. I had only learned about boilers and thermodynamics through theory in the classroom.

Everything changed on my first day at a palm oil mill.

I quickly learned that the boiler was one of the most important pieces of equipment in the entire mill. Without a properly operating boiler, the palm oil mill simply could not run.

During the following weeks, my senior colleagues began introducing me to the importance of the Steam Engineer Certificate of Competency issued by the Department of Occupational Safety and Health (JKKP). At that time, two years of practical experience working with boilers was required before a candidate could sit for the competency examination.

Because of the critical role of the boiler and the importance of the competency certificate, I began to focus seriously on learning everything I could about boiler operation.

After completing my routine rounds around the mill, one of my favourite places to end up was the Boiler Station. I asked the boilermen countless questions about operations, regulations, the purpose of every piece of equipment, and, most importantly, how to operate the boiler safely.

Fortunately, the boilermen were generous with their knowledge. They were always willing to share their experiences with a young engineer who was eager to learn.

A palm oil mill normally operates according to the availability of fresh fruit bunches (FFB). Once all the fruit has been processed, the mill will eventually stop. This means that every day we started the boiler, operated the mill, and stopped the boiler late at night or in the early hours of the following morning.

After the morning safety briefing, everyone would begin their daily routines and shift duties.

We started by reviewing the maintenance reports. Were there any problems with pumps, conveyors, motors or other machinery? Did the problem require immediate repair, or could it wait until the monthly shutdown day, usually on the first day of the month?

Together with the Production Executive, Maintenance Executive, supervisors and workers, we would visit each problem area and assess the situation.

Once everything was under control, the mill would normally begin full operation around 9:00 or 10:00 a.m.

That was why my manager called the period between 8:00 and 10:00 a.m. our "Productive Hours." Those were the hours when important work had to be completed and problems resolved.

All executives, engineers and supervisors were expected to be inside the mill, supervising operations and ensuring that everything was running safely and smoothly.

As a young cadet engineer with almost no practical experience, I simply followed the movements of my senior colleagues. I watched, listened and asked questions—sometimes about the smallest things.

In the afternoon or evening, I would read more to deepen my understanding. I also recorded what I had learned in my logbook.

I kept that logbook carefully for many years. Almost 20 years later, I even handed it to a young engineer as a reference.

I wrote down everything that caught my attention—even the different types of belts used in the mill. I would sometimes draw them in my logbook because, at that time, everything was new and fascinating to me.

Page after page, the logbook slowly became filled with observations, drawings, technical notes and lessons.

Years later, I felt extremely proud when my boss, a Professional Engineer, reviewed the book. Seeing his signature inside my logbook gave me tremendous encouragement.

Then came the moment when the mill was ready to start.

After the supervisor gave the instruction to the boilerman and engine driver, everyone gathered at the Boiler Station.

For me, it was like watching a carefully rehearsed performance.

The boilerman and his team began the step-by-step process of starting a 45 MT/hour steam boiler.

There were two 45 MT/hour boilers standing proudly at the station. At that time, they were only about two years old.

Meanwhile, the Engine Driver started the 500 kW diesel generator set to provide the electrical power required to initiate the mill's operation.

The boiler also had one of the largest motors in the entire mill—the Induced Draft (ID) Fan, rated at more than 100 kW.

The boilerman then instructed the shovel operator to feed mesocarp fibre mixed with palm kernel shell into the fuel elevator.

The fuel began moving upwards, accompanied by the noise of vehicles, conveyors and machinery operating around the mill.

I still remember the smell of fresh mesocarp fibre piled beside the boiler.

For some reason, that smell gave me energy.

Perhaps it was because I understood that without that fibre, the boiler would not operate—and without the boiler, the entire mill would remain silent.

I watched the fuel elevator chain and scraper conveyor carefully as they moved the fuel step by step towards the furnace.

Eventually, the fuel entered the furnace, which was already hot from the previous day's operation.

There were three fire doors. From time to time, the boilerman would open one of them to inspect the combustion.

As the fire became stronger, the furnace temperature gradually climbed to around 700°C.

Heat began transferring from one stage to another—heating the boiler tubes, transferring energy to the water and eventually producing steam in the upper drum.

The furnace draft had to be carefully maintained, around -5 mmWC, to minimise the risk of backfire.

The Secondary Fan, Fuel Feeding Fan, Forced Draft Fan and ID Fan each played their respective roles in controlling combustion and maintaining the required draft throughout the furnace and flue gas system.

Finally, the flue gas passed through the multi-cyclone dust collector.  where particulate matter was removed before the cleaned gas was discharged through the tall boiler chimney.

Over the years, environmental regulations governing air emissions had become increasingly stringent. A multi-cyclone dust collector alone was no longer sufficient for many applications, and additional tertiary dust collection systems were introduced.

Among the technologies used in the industry were Electrostatic Precipitators (ESP), Bag Filters and Wet Scrubbers.

These systems also brought additional competency and operational requirements, including personnel trained through relevant institutions such as EIMAS.

I remember looking towards the boiler chimney as the dark smoke gradually disappeared.

The boiler was now running properly.

The pressure reached approximately 24 barg.

The stage then shifted from the Boiler Station to the Engine Room.

If the boilerman had been the main character during the first act, now the Engine Driver took centre stage.

He began opening the approximately 10-inch steam valve to supply steam to the turbine system.

The steam was introduced gradually, allowing the system to warm up slowly and safely.

He checked the steam traps to ensure they were functioning properly and carefully monitored the pressure gauges throughout the system, particularly around the Back Pressure Receiver.

Eventually, steam was supplied to the 2,000 kW steam turbine.

Many palm oil mills use a Woodward governor system to control turbine speed and operation. The governor may be relatively small compared with the turbine itself, but its role is incredibly important.

I used to think of it as the brain controlling the body.

Under the careful hands of the Engine Driver, the turbine speed was gradually increased until it reached the required operating speed—typically around 3,000 RPM, although some turbine configurations can operate at speeds of up to 7,000 RPM.

Once the desired speed was achieved, the Engine Driver moved to the Main Switchboard.

The frequency of the diesel generator and turbine alternator had to be synchronised at **50 Hz** before the electrical load could be transferred.

Slowly, the electrical load was shifted to the turbine, starting from around 100 kW and gradually increasing to approximately 600 kW.

Eventually, the diesel generator could be shut down.

The entire mill was now being powered by the steam turbine.

From that moment, everyone began moving to their respective stations to start processing the fresh fruit bunches.

Steam from the Back Pressure Receiver was supplied to the Sterilisation Station, Pressing Station and Clarification Station.

Other sections followed.

The Empty Bunch Station started operating.

The Kernel Plant came alive.

One conveyor after another began moving. Motors started turning. Machines started running.

The mill, which had been quiet only a short while earlier, was suddenly filled with a symphony of mechanical sounds, steam, smells and human activity.

Supervisors and workers moved around, coordinating their respective tasks.

Once everything was running smoothly, I would often return to the Boiler Station.

The boilerman would still be there, carefully monitoring the parameters displayed on the main control panel.

I loved looking through the small sight hole into the furnace.

Inside, the flames appeared to dance happily as they generated the enormous heat required to keep the mill alive.

Even from outside the furnace, I could feel the heat on my face.

By then, mesocarp fibre had already arrived from the processing area. The shovel operator would take over the fuel-feeding duties, allowing the boilerman to focus on monitoring the boiler.

After several hours of intense work, the boilerman could finally relax a little.

We would talk about the boiler, the mill and life in general.

Eventually, a few of us would walk to the canteen for morning tea.

Every now and then, I would look back towards the Boiler Station.

The chimney was now releasing much cleaner exhaust.

Occasionally, steam could be seen escaping from the condensate chamber when the fireman carried out a boiler blowdown.

Looking to the left, the Sterilisation Station was also releasing steam from its condensate chamber.

That was the unmistakable sign that the cooking of the fresh fruit bunches had begun.

Fuh!

What an exciting sight.

What a satisfying feeling.

The palm oil mill was now fully alive and operating.

For a young cadet engineer who had only known boilers from the pages of a thermodynamics textbook, standing there and watching an entire palm oil mill come alive through steam, fire, water, pressure and electricity was an unforgettable experience.

That was where my real education began.

Not in the classroom.

But beside the boiler.

That is my story for today.

STORY 1119 SUSTAINABLE PALM OIL MILL – Part 4: Sustainable Energy

If you live in a city, you probably take electricity, water, and other basic utilities for granted. They are supplied through established infrastructure and are available whenever we need them.

But a palm oil mill and plantation complex located deep in a remote area can be very different.

Far from towns and public utilities, the mill often has to generate and manage its own essential resources. Water, fuel, steam and electricity are all part of an integrated system that allows the entire plantation and mill complex to operate independently.

This is where the concept of sustainable energy begins.

Water: The First Essential Resource

The first requirement is water.

The source may be a river, a natural lake, or even a man-made reservoir. Raw water is pumped to the Water Treatment Station, where it goes through several treatment stages, including screening, coagulation, flocculation, clarification and filtration.

For boiler feedwater, additional treatment may be required, such as water softening, reverse osmosis (RO), and internal boiler-water treatment.

Chemicals such as oxygen scavengers, phosphate and alkalinity control agents are used to protect the boiler system. A deaerator may also be installed to remove dissolved gases, particularly oxygen, before the water enters the boiler.

One important tool used by water-treatment operators is the Jar Test. It provides an indication of the appropriate coagulant dosage required to achieve effective clarification.

Laboratory analysis is equally important.

Test results from raw water, treated water and boiler water must be regularly reviewed to ensure that the quality of water entering the boiler remains within the required operating parameters.

For domestic water used by employees, chlorination is normally carried out to maintain safe water quality.

Interestingly, not every palm oil mill has access to freshwater.

Some mills, particularly those located on islands, have explored the use of seawater as a raw-water source, followed by appropriate treatment to make it suitable for industrial operations.

From Biomass to Steam

After water, the next major requirement is fuel.

A typical palm oil mill may use a biomass-fired water-tube boiler with a capacity of approximately 30–45 tonnes of steam per hour, depending on the mill's processing capacity.

The remarkable part is that much of the boiler fuel is generated by the palm oil milling process itself.

The main biomass fuels include:

* Mesocarp fibre

* Palm kernel shell (PKS)

* Empty fruit bunches (EFB), particularly when processed into shredded EFB

On a dry basis, their approximate gross calorific values (GCV) can be around:

* Palm kernel shell: 20 MJ/kg

* Mesocarp fibre: 19 MJ/kg

* Shredded EFB: 18 MJ/kg

These fuels can be blended in appropriate proportions to maintain stable combustion, optimise boiler performance and ensure continuous steam production in line with mill operations.

Mesocarp fibre produced during normal milling is commonly mixed with palm kernel shell and conveyed directly to the boiler.

Any excess biomass beyond the immediate boiler requirement can be stored and used during mill start-up or periods when normal fuel production is insufficient.

Some mills have also introduced Walking Floor Biomass Fuel Feeding Systems to store and automatically feed excess mesocarp fibre.

A properly designed system can provide several hours of boiler operation without requiring continuous biomass supply directly from the milling process. This provides additional operational flexibility and improves mill reliability.

The Rising Value of Palm Kernel Shell

Palm kernel shell is another important biomass fuel.

It can be recovered through processes such as hydrocyclone or claybath separation. Traditionally, PKS was viewed mainly as a by-product of the milling process.

Today, that perception has changed dramatically.

Palm kernel shell has become a valuable commodity.

The industry has increasingly started to monitor PKS extraction in much the same way it monitors Oil Extraction Rate (OER) and Kernel Extraction Rate (KER).

Under a typical mass balance, PKS generation may be around 5–7% of FFB processed. However, the introduction of newer oil palm clones and changes in fruit characteristics have resulted in some mills experiencing lower PKS production.

This reduction has an impact beyond the mill's mass balance.

It can directly affect boiler operation because less PKS means that additional biomass fuel may be required to maintain the required steam production.

PKS: From Waste to Global Commodity

The PKS industry has become increasingly interesting.

In 2025, Indonesia and Malaysia exported several million tonnes of palm kernel shell combined, with major importing markets including Japan, Thailand and Singapore.

Much of this PKS is used as biomass fuel, particularly as an alternative or supplement to coal in energy-generation applications.

Within the palm oil industry itself, PKS remains an important fuel source.

Palm oil refineries located in urban areas can also use PKS for their daily energy requirements. Some dedicated power plants using shredded EFB as their primary biomass fuel may also require PKS to support their energy-generation systems.

Strong demand has transformed PKS from a difficult-to-store by-product into an important source of additional revenue for palm oil mills.

Years ago, PKS could have a value of only a few ringgit per tonne and was sometimes considered a storage problem.

Today, depending on market conditions, PKS prices can reach RM300–RM400 per tonne.

That is a remarkable transformation.

What was once considered a waste or low-value by-product has become a valuable biomass commodity.

The Challenge of EFB

But PKS availability is limited.

As demand continues to grow, many companies have started looking at empty fruit bunches (EFB) as an alternative biomass fuel.

EFB can be shredded and reduced in size so that it becomes more suitable for boiler combustion.

However, EFB presents another challenge: high moisture content.

Large storage areas may be required to allow the material to dry sufficiently before it can be used efficiently as boiler fuel.

There have also been efforts to convert EFB into biomass pellets, making it easier to handle, transport, store and use as a fuel.

These developments are creating another interesting transformation in the palm oil industry.

The mill is no longer simply processing FFB.

It is beginning to process its own by-products into energy resources.

More Biomass, More Steam, More Power

As more biomass resources are utilised, the energy system of the palm oil mill can also evolve.

Boiler capacity may increase, while larger steam turbines can be installed to convert excess steam energy into electricity.

In the past, a 700 kW steam turbine might have been sufficient for a particular mill's electrical requirements.

Today, depending on mill capacity and energy demand, turbines rated at 2,000 kW or even 2,500 kW can be installed.

This represents a major change in the role of the palm oil mill.

The mill is no longer merely a facility for processing fresh fruit bunches.

It can become:

A water producer.

A biomass producer.

A steam producer.

An electricity producer.

And, indirectly, an energy supplier to the wider world.

This is one of the most fascinating aspects of a sustainable palm oil mill.

What begins as a fruit-processing facility can become an integrated resource and energy centre—where water is treated, biomass is recovered, steam is generated, electricity is produced, and agricultural by-products are transformed into valuable energy resources.

The future palm oil mill is therefore not simply about extracting oil from fruit.

It is about extracting value from every resource.

And when almost nothing is wasted, the mill itself becomes part of the solution for a more sustainable energy future.

That's my story for this evening.