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 STORY IN PALM OIL INDUSTRY

Soft launching of my 1st Book

Alhamdulillah, by the grace of Allah SWT, my first book, MY STORY 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 STORY 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.

STORY 1118 — SUSTAINABLE PALM OIL MILL Part 3: Sterilisation

In front of every palm oil mill, there is usually a wide open area where trucks and tractors carrying Fresh Fruit Bunches (FFB) from the plantations queue patiently, waiting for their turn to enter the mill. During CPO and Palm Kernel dispatch operations, tankers and long trailers will also join the traffic. On top of that, there are company vehicles and plantation vehicles moving in and out throughout the day to support daily operations.

Everyone has to wait patiently for their turn.

Once their number is called, the security personnel will direct the vehicle into the mill compound. The driver will register at the security post before proceeding to the weighbridge for the first weighing.

After receiving the signal from the weighbridge clerk, the driver moves off the weighbridge and proceeds to the FFB reception ramp to unload the fruit.

A typical palm oil mill will have two weighbridges, normally with a capacity of 50 to 60 metric tonnes each. When FFB intake is high, particularly during the peak crop season from August to February, the weighbridges may operate in two shifts, sometimes until around 9.00 p.m., to cope with the heavy traffic.

The FFB Ramp

At the ramp, there are normally two or more bays where incoming FFB can be received, inspected and temporarily stored before processing.

The ramp plays a very important role in managing all FFB entering the mill. Not all fruit arriving at the mill has the same quality. Some bunches are fresh and well-ripened, while others may be under-ripe, over-ripe, empty or damaged.

Proper handling and grading are therefore essential to maintain fruit quality and achieve optimum oil extraction.

Traffic management is equally important. Trucks, tractors and other vehicles are constantly moving in and out of the ramp area. Adequate separation between vehicles, graders and operating personnel must be maintained to prevent accidents.

From the ramp, the FFB is transferred using a scraper conveyor and loaded into cages waiting to be transported to the steriliser.

Depending on the sterilisation system installed, the mill may use horizontal sterilisation, vertical sterilisation, continuous sterilisation or other specialised systems.

In a conventional cage-based system, FFB is loaded into cages before being transferred into the steriliser. Capstans equipped with wire ropes are commonly used to pull cages with capacities of approximately 6 to 10 metric tonnes.

For larger cages, typically around 15 to 20 metric tonnes, hydraulic systems may be used to move the heavily loaded cages into and out of the steriliser.

The movement of both loaded and empty cages has to be carefully controlled and completed within the required cycle time. This is important to maintain a constant fruit-processing cycle that matches the mill's processing capacity.

And then comes one of the most critical processes in the entire palm oil milling operation:

Sterilisation.

The Sterilisation Process

The steriliser is a large pressure vessel designed to cook the FFB using pressurised steam.

Traditionally, sterilisation was often carried out using a single-peak pressure cycle. However, as the size and physical characteristics of FFB changed over the years, the sterilisation process also evolved.

The three-peak sterilisation cycle became an important operating practice in many mills.

The process begins with de-aeration, typically for around 5 to 10 minutes, at approximately 1.0 to 1.5 barg. This is a critical stage because cold air trapped inside the steriliser must be removed to ensure effective heat transfer from the steam.

After de-aeration, the pressure is increased during the next stage, reaching approximately 2 barg. This helps heat the entire bunch progressively, soften the mesocarp, weaken the fruit-to-bunch attachment and prepare the FFB for subsequent threshing and digestion.

The final sterilisation peak may then reach approximately 2.5 to 3.0 barg. At these pressures, temperatures can reach roughly 126°C to 134°C, depending on the operating conditions.

At this stage, the objective is to deactivate lipase enzymes that can contribute to deterioration in oil quality. Proper sterilisation also helps loosen the fruits from the bunch, soften the mesocarp, improve digestion and pressing, facilitate oil release, and reduce oil losses associated with unstripped bunches and empty fruit bunches.

A typical cycle may involve:

• De-aeration: approximately 5–10 minutes

• First peak: approximately 10–20 minutes

• Second peak: approximately 20–30 minutes

• Final peak and holding: approximately 30–50 minutes

These times do not include the additional time required for steam exhaust and the reintroduction of steam into the steriliser.

Every pressure movement and holding period is recorded on the pressure chart and monitored for every cycle.

For an experienced mill engineer, a well-shaped three-peak pressure graph is almost like a signature of good sterilisation.

A beautiful and consistent three-peak graph indicates that the fruit has been properly cooked, helping the downstream processes run smoothly and contributing to a higher oil extraction rate.

However, sterilisation is not simply about following a fixed timetable.

The duration of each peak may need to be adjusted according to the condition, maturity and size of the incoming FFB. Proper optimisation is important to achieve effective cooking while avoiding excessive condensate and unnecessary oil losses.

Safety Comes First

There is another side of sterilisation that must never be forgotten.

A steriliser is a high-pressure vessel and is therefore one of the most potentially dangerous pieces of equipment in a palm oil mill.

Even today, steriliser-related accidents and explosions continue to occur in the palm oil industry, particularly where inspection, maintenance or operating discipline is inadequate.

This is why steriliser safety must always be treated as a priority.

The two safety valves installed on the vessel must remain functional, regularly tested and calibrated according to the required schedule.

The steriliser door is another critical component. Door seals must be inspected regularly and replaced when damaged or deteriorated. Steam leakage from the door is not merely an operational problem; it can also become a serious safety concern.

Even when stainless steel materials are used, the equipment is still subjected to continuous exposure to heat, pressure, steam and condensate. Over time, wear and tear will occur.

The internal liner must therefore be inspected for corrosion, cracks, deformation or other damage.

The tell-tale holes located around the steriliser door are also important. They can provide an early indication of leakage through the door liner and help detect problems before they become more serious.

All of these responsibilities create a major challenge for a palm oil mill engineer.

The engineer has to balance three things at the same time:

Keeping the mill running.
Keeping the equipment in optimum condition.
Keeping people and company assets safe.

A palm oil mill is not simply about processing fruit and producing CPO.

Behind every tonne of oil produced is a complex chain of people, machines, pressure vessels, steam systems, vehicles, quality controls and safety procedures working together.

And at the heart of that operation, sterilisation remains one of the most critical processes.

That is my story today.

STORY 1117 SUSTAINABLE PALM OIL MILL - Part 2 ; FFB Chapter

A single oil palm fruit from a fresh fruit bunch carries with it a story of years of hard work.

Long before that fruit arrives at a palm oil mill, the journey has already begun. Forests or previously cleared land are prepared, oil palm seedlings are planted, nurtured and maintained for years before the trees finally mature and begin producing fresh fruit bunches. What appears to be an ordinary bunch of oil palm fruit is, in reality, the result of years of investment, patience, sweat and sacrifice.

And once the fruit is harvested, another long journey begins.

When a fresh fruit bunch falls to the ground, the harvester immediately begins the difficult task of collecting and moving it. Sometimes this is done purely through human strength and physical effort. In other areas, simple tools such as wheelbarrows or small hand carts are used to move several bunches at a time before they are stacked along the roadside.

In more challenging terrain, particularly areas that are difficult to access, buffaloes may even be used to carry the fruit before it reaches the main collection road.

Every bunch represents physical effort.

The loose fruits scattered around the palm trees must also be collected one by one. They are gathered into sacks and brought together with the harvested bunches. These loose fruits are extremely valuable because they contain a high proportion of oil.

Interestingly, in Indonesia there are mills specifically designed to process loose fruits, whereas in Malaysia, mills dedicated solely to processing loose fruits have historically not been licensed in the same way.

Whether it is a fresh fruit bunch or loose fruit, it must reach the mill as quickly as possible. Ideally, the fruit should be processed within 24 to 48 hours after harvesting to maintain good oil quality. Delays can lead to an increase in Free Fatty Acid (FFA) and a reduction in the Deterioration of Bleachability Index (DOBI).

Poor-quality crude palm oil can subsequently create problems at the refinery and may result in penalties being imposed based on the quantity delivered.

This is why time is everything in the palm oil industry.

In peatland areas, transporting fresh fruit bunches can be even more challenging. Water channels become important transportation routes. Small boats are used to move the fruit through waterways before transferring the bunches onto larger boats and eventually delivering them to collection points.

From there, the fruit is weighed, loaded onto trucks at the ramp and transported to the palm oil mill.

Some plantations have developed even more unique transportation systems. Cable rail systems are used in certain areas to move fresh fruit bunches towards the mill. Elsewhere, cages running along railway-like tracks are used to transport the fruit.

There are many different ways to move palm oil fruit, but the objective remains the same:

Get the fruit to the mill quickly, safely and in good condition.

An oil palm bunch generally reaches maturity several months after pollination. Once it is ready for harvesting, timing becomes critical. The fruit must be harvested at the correct stage of ripeness and delivered to the mill as soon as possible so that the best possible oil quality can be produced.

For plantations located close to towns or populated areas, there is another challenge — theft.

When palm oil prices rise, the value of fresh fruit bunches increases, and this can encourage theft. In some places, even bunches that are still hanging on the trees are targeted.

Therefore, good plantation roads are not merely a convenience. They are the lifeline of plantation operations.

A damaged or poorly maintained road can slow harvesting, delay transportation and increase the time taken for fruit to reach the mill. Eventually, poor logistics can contribute to deteriorating fruit quality and lower oil extraction performance.

But logistics is only one part of the story.

The skill and judgement of the harvester are equally important.

Harvesting too early means harvesting immature fruit. Different estates may use various ripeness standards, such as the number of loose fruits that have fallen naturally from a bunch — perhaps one to three loose fruits, or a higher threshold such as five, depending on the estate's harvesting standard.

The principle is simple:

Harvest the bunch when it is mature enough to produce the maximum amount of oil.

If a bunch is harvested too early, the oil yield will be lower. For the company, the financial loss can be significant.

Every time I see rows of trucks, tractors and trailers waiting outside a palm oil mill, I cannot help but think about the enormous amount of sweat, effort and sacrifice behind every single load.

Every bunch has travelled a long way.

Someone has planted the tree.

Someone has maintained it for years.

Someone has harvested the bunch.

Someone has carried it out of the field.

Someone has collected the loose fruits.

Someone has driven the tractor or truck.

And finally, someone at the mill receives it and turns that fruit into crude palm oil.

That is why I always feel uncomfortable when drivers are forced to wait too long at the mill.

Behind every truck is someone's hard work.

Behind every bunch is someone's sweat.

And behind every tonne of fruit is a long chain of people, machines, roads, plantations and decisions that must work together.

There is another moment that always leaves an impression on me.

When the fruit is weighed and enters the mill's reception ramp, it is unloaded and inspected by the fruit grader. The quality of the fresh fruit bunches is assessed carefully.

The grader examines whether the bunches are:

* Ripe

* Under-ripe

* Unripe

* Over-ripe

* Old

* Parthenocarpic

* Long-stalked

* Damaged

* Or affected by pests such as rats

This is where the journey of the fruit is judged.

And sometimes, there is that second feeling of guilt.

Seeing immature bunches being rejected and loaded back onto the truck or tractor is never pleasant.

The harvester has already spent hours cutting, carrying and collecting the fruit. The driver has spent time and fuel transporting it. The plantation has spent years growing the palm tree.

Yet, because the fruit was harvested too early, the bunch cannot deliver its full potential.

The loss caused by immature fruit can be significant.

That is why a sustainable palm oil mill is not simply a place where fruit is processed.

It is the final link in a much longer journey.

Sustainability begins in the plantation — with responsible land preparation, good agricultural practices, proper harvesting, efficient transportation and respect for the people who work in the field.

It continues on the road, at the weighing station, at the loading ramp, through the steriliser, threshing, pressing, clarification and purification processes, and finally to the refinery.

Every stage matters.

Every minute matters.

Every bunch matters.

And behind every tonne of crude palm oil lies the sweat of the people who made that journey possible.

The next time we see a truck loaded with fresh fruit bunches entering a palm oil mill, perhaps we should not simply see it as another production load.

Look closer.

Inside that truck is a story.

A story of years.

A story of hard work.

A story of sweat.

A story of people.

And ultimately, a story of how one small palm fruit becomes part of a much bigger world.

That is my story tonight.

STORY 1116 — SUSTAINABLE PALM OIL MILL — PART 1

A palm oil mill typically has a processing capacity ranging from 45 metric tonnes of fresh fruit bunches (FFB) per hour to 90 metric tonnes per hour, depending on the availability and projected production of FFB from the surrounding oil palm estates.

During my studies for the Diploma in Palm Oil Milling Technology & Management (DIPOM), a programme developed by the Malaysian Palm Oil Board (MPOB), one of the important subjects we learned was how to design and plan a palm oil mill—starting with a feasibility study.

Before a mill is built, the company must first understand how much fruit its estates are expected to produce over the coming years. This requires a long-term projection of FFB production, beginning when the oil palms start producing at around their third year and continuing until approximately 20 to 23 years of age, depending on the company's replanting policy.

Oil palms normally begin producing their first fruit in the third year. Production increases as the palms mature, with the period from approximately the fifth to tenth year showing significant increases in yield. From around the tenth year until approximately the twentieth year, the palms generally enter their peak productive period.

FFB yield, however, is influenced by many factors, including fertiliser application, estate management practices, soil conditions, rainfall and weather patterns. A single bunch can weigh anywhere from approximately 8 kg to 30 kg, depending on the variety, age and growing conditions of the palms.

From the projected FFB production of the estates, year by year, the company can estimate the total quantity of fruit that will eventually be delivered to the proposed mill. This projection becomes one of the most important foundations for determining the mill's processing capacity.

In a typical large-scale plantation development, the company may begin establishing its estates first, with the mill coming later when sufficient FFB becomes available. The construction of the mill itself may also be carried out in phases.

For example, the first phase might involve constructing a 45 MT/hour mill. As the surrounding estates mature and FFB production increases, the company can expand the mill to 60 MT/hour or even 90 MT/hour during the second phase.

In other words, the size of the mill should not simply be based on how large the company wants the mill to be. It must be supported by the actual and projected supply of FFB.

Another important part of the feasibility study is competition.

The company must examine whether there are existing palm oil mills in the surrounding area that could compete for the same FFB supply in the future. This is an important consideration in the planning and licensing process, as the availability of sufficient FFB is critical to the economic viability of a new mill.

Other factors must also be studied carefully.

Water supply is essential because a palm oil mill requires a substantial amount of water for processing, steam generation, cooling systems, cleaning and other operations.

The distance between the mill and the estates is another major consideration. Fresh fruit bunches must be transported to the mill as quickly as possible after harvesting because delays can affect oil quality and increase transportation costs.

Then there is the question of logistics.

The mill must have suitable roads for transporting FFB into the mill and moving products such as Crude Palm Oil (CPO) and Palm Kernel (PK) to downstream facilities such as refineries and kernel-processing plants.

All these factors eventually influence the mill's operating efficiency, production costs and, ultimately, the return on investment (ROI) of the entire project.

For this reason, palm oil mills are often strategically located within large plantation complexes, preferably close to a reliable water source.

If a suitable natural water source is unavailable, the company may construct a reservoir or artificial lake to store sufficient water for mill operations.

This is also one of the reasons why many palm oil mills are located near rivers.

But there is another interesting aspect of a palm oil mill that is sometimes overlooked.

A mill is not merely a place where thousands of tonnes of palm fruit are processed every day.

For a remote plantation complex, the mill can become its heart.

The mill processes the FFB and produces CPO and palm kernels, but at the same time it can also generate electricity for the mill and estate housing areas. The mill may also provide treated and clean water for the surrounding community and operational facilities.

When you look at a large plantation complex from this perspective, the palm oil mill is much more than a processing plant.

It is the centre of an entire ecosystem—connecting the estates, workers, transportation network, energy supply, water system, production facilities and downstream industries.

And that is where the concept of a sustainable palm oil mill begins.

This is only the beginning of the story.

To be continued in Part 2.

Story 1115: Gastric

Life in a palm oil estate was, in many ways, a beautiful and fulfilling experience.

I was surrounded by endless stretches of green oil palm trees, peaceful staff quarters, and the familiar rhythm of life among the mill and estate workers. Some estates, especially those inherited from the days of foreign management, had remarkably well-planned residential complexes with excellent facilities. There were recreation clubs, schools, football fields, golf courses, beautiful gardens, and carefully maintained landscapes filled with trees and flowers.

The manager's bungalow was often an icon in itself—beautifully designed, spacious, and surrounded by a large compound. Usually, the manager would have a cleaner and a gardener to help maintain the house and its surroundings.

Every morning, my daily routine was simple but satisfying.

I would get ready for work and make sure I arrived at the mill before 7:30 a.m. I would park my car and be greeted by staff and workers who were also arriving for the day. After that, I would make my usual stop at the canteen beside the mill's main gate.

I would sit together with the staff and engineers who were having breakfast. The middle-aged lady running the canteen knew me well. She understood my usual order and would often ask, with a smile, what I wanted to eat and drink.

My breakfast was almost always the same: a bowl of curry Maggi noodles stir-fried with onions and chillies, mixed with cabbage and topped with an egg. Alongside it, I would have a cup of Nescafé tarik made with sweetened condensed milk.

While eating, I would chat with and greet the mill staff as they came and went.

That was my breakfast routine for almost 15 years of life in the palm oil estate.

Then, when I was about 36, something strange started happening.

I usually had lunch quite late—sometimes at noon, but often as late as 2 p.m. if I was busy with work inside the mill or attending meetings. But around 11 a.m., I would suddenly start shaking or trembling for no obvious reason.

The strange thing was that I did not feel hungry.

Yet, once I had lunch, the trembling would disappear.

This happened almost every day.

Then came Ramadan.

Because I was fasting, I naturally stopped having my usual caffeinated drinks during the day. Without realising it at first, I noticed something interesting: the trembling did not happen.

That was when I began to suspect that caffeine—especially the Nescafé I had been drinking every morning—might have been contributing to the gastric problems and discomfort I was experiencing.

Once I became aware of the possible connection, I started changing my habits. I gradually reduced my intake of Nescafé tarik and switched between tea tarik, plain tea, and eventually plain coffee without sugar.

As the years passed, I also began to understand that taking care of my body was no longer as simple as it had been when I was younger.

Now, approaching 50, it is not just gastric problems that I have to think about. Cholesterol, body weight, energy levels, and general fitness also need attention.

I get sleepy more easily. My body sometimes feels sore and tired. My bones and joints no longer feel as strong and flexible as they did in my younger days.

Perhaps this is simply part of growing older.

Age has quietly arrived, and with it comes the need to change our lifestyle according to the condition of our bodies. We cannot continue living exactly as we did when we were young.

The body changes. Our habits must change with it.

Looking back, that simple bowl of Maggi and cup of Nescafé at the estate canteen were more than just breakfast. They were part of 15 years of my life—years filled with work, friendship, laughter, and the peaceful beauty of living among the oil palms.

And perhaps, as we grow older, life teaches us a different kind of lesson:

Enjoy life, but learn to listen to your body.

That is my story today.

STORY 1114 A Bowl of Lontong in a Foreign Land

I had been living away from home for almost half a year before I finally found the courage to have breakfast at a small roadside stall just next to my house.

Every morning, at around 6:30 a.m., a husband and wife would arrive on a small three-wheeled cart. They would set up their modest stall and begin selling their specialty: lontong with pakis and young jackfruit curry.

A little later, several suppliers would arrive, delivering various traditional cakes and kuih to be sold at the stall.

There were only four small tables.

Yet, somehow, their food was always gone by around 10:00 a.m.

Every morning, I watched motorcycles and cars stopping in front of the stall. Some people would sit down for breakfast, while others would buy food to take home or bring to work. Many of them were clearly regular customers.

After getting ready for work, I would lock the gate of my house and walk over to the stall for breakfast. My usual order was simple: a plate of lontong with pakis curry, one boiled egg, and a cup of black coffee without sugar.

I have always liked pakis, especially here, where wild ferns grow almost everywhere. The curry can be quite spicy, but the combination of compressed rice cakes, pakis curry and crackers makes a satisfying breakfast. Add a boiled egg and a cup of unsweetened coffee, and it is enough to keep me going until lunchtime.

One morning, I finally started a conversation with the couple.

I discovered that they were Minangkabau, originally from Batu Sangkar, the town famous for the magnificent Istano Basa Pagaruyung.

Suddenly, my simple breakfast felt a little different.

As I enjoyed my lontong, I occasionally watched the customers come and go. Some were old customers who seemed to know the couple well. There was a certain warmth in the way they greeted one another—a small community gathering around four little tables and a humble breakfast stall.

Meanwhile, I sat quietly, waiting for the vehicle that would pick me up and take me to work.

There was nothing extraordinary about that morning.

Just a bowl of lontong, a boiled egg, a cup of black coffee, two hardworking people from Batu Sangkar, and a small roadside stall that came alive every morning.

But sometimes, when you are far from home, the simplest things are the ones that make a foreign place slowly begin to feel like home.

That is my little story today.