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.

STORY 1113 CONFINED SPACE

STORY 1113 CONFINED SPACE

Three Lives Inside a Palm Kernel Bunker

Almost three years after I had moved away from the mill, I received some shocking news.

There had been a fatal accident at a palm oil mill in 2009.

Three people had died.

What made the news even more painful was that all three were people I knew closely.

They were not strangers.

I had worked with them.

I had seen them doing their jobs.

I had spoken to them.

I had shared the same workplace with them.

But on one particular day, three ordinary workers went to work for what appeared to be a routine task.

They never came home.

It Started With a Quality Problem

The story began with a quality issue involving palm kernel.

A consignment delivered to a refinery was found to contain an unusually high level of *dirt*.

It was almost 10%, while the specified limit was around 6%.

For the mill management, this was a problem that needed to be investigated.

Where had the dirt come from?

Was it introduced during collection?

Transportation?

Storage?

Or was there a problem inside one of the bunkers?

The manager gave an instruction:

Inspect Palm Kernel Bunker No. 3.

Take samples.

Check the quality.

The instruction sounded simple.

But one important question had not been properly addressed:

Where should the sample be taken from, and how should it be taken safely?

THE YEAR WAS 2009

At that time, confined-space awareness in many workplaces was not what it is today.

Entering a bunker, silo or storage space for inspection or sampling could sometimes be regarded as part of normal work.

It had been done before.

It had been done many times.

And when something has been done repeatedly without an accident, people can easily begin to believe:

“It must be safe.”

That is one of the most dangerous assumptions in workplace safety.

A task being completed safely one hundred times does not guarantee that the 101st time will be safe.

Risk does not care about routine.

BUNKER NO. 3

That day, a Lab Assistant and a fellow worker went to Palm Kernel Bunker No. 3.

The bunker was still approximately 40% full of palm kernel.

One of them entered the bunker to collect a sample.

The Lab Assistant remained above the bunker.

Everything appeared normal.

It was simply another work assignment.

Another sample.

Another routine inspection.

A few minutes passed.

Then the worker collapsed.

He became unconscious.

Everything changed in an instant.

A routine quality inspection had become an emergency.

The young Lab Assistant panicked.

He immediately called for help.

THE SECOND MAN

An Assistant Supervisor arrived.

Inside the bunker was a worker who was unconscious.

There was no time to think.

His instinct was simple:

Save him.

He entered the bunker.

But moments later—

he collapsed too.

Now there were two unconscious men inside the bunker.

THE INSTINCT TO SAVE A FRIEND

The Lab Assistant saw what was happening.

He wanted to help.

He started to climb down.

But halfway into the bunker, his body began sending him warnings.

He felt dizzy.

He felt nauseous.

Something was wrong.

His instincts told him to stop.

He turned back and climbed out.

But by then, the exposure had already affected him.

Not long afterwards—

he too became unconscious.

THREE MEN

Other workers finally realized what was happening.

Emergency action was taken.

All three men were eventually brought out of the bunker.

But it was already too late for two of them.

Two lives were lost.

The Lab Assistant was rushed out for emergency medical treatment.

But the mill was far from the nearest medical facility.

Approximately 90 kilometres away.

The vehicle moved as quickly as possible.

But time was running out.

Sadly—

the third victim also died on the journey.

Three deaths.

One bunker.

One work instruction.

One routine sampling activity.

And three families lost someone they loved.

WHAT REALLY HAPPENED?

Years later, when I looked back at the tragedy, one question remained in my mind:

Why did this happen when workers had entered palm kernel bunkers before?

Wasn't entering the bunker something that had been done routinely?

Why did this particular bunker suddenly become so dangerous?

The answer may have been hidden in something that appeared relatively minor—

a change in the bunker design.

ONE WALL THAT CHANGED THE AIRFLOW

At the top of the bunker, there was a vent line.

However, there had been a significant modification around the upper section of the bunker.

An additional wall had been constructed around the top area.

The original purpose was reasonable:

to prevent rainwater from entering the transfer conveyor connecting the bunkers.

But every engineering modification can have unintended consequences.

In this case, the additional structure significantly restricted natural airflow around the bunker.

Ventilation became less effective.

And when ventilation is inadequate, hazardous gases can accumulate.

What looked like an ordinary palm kernel bunker from the outside—

could become a completely different environment inside.

A space that had previously been considered routine had become a potential death trap.

THIS IS THE REAL DANGER OF A CONFINED SPACE

A confined space does not necessarily look dangerous.

It can be a:

bunker.

tank.

silo.

manhole.

pit.

sewer.

vessel.

process chamber.

The greatest danger may not be visible.

It may not be felt.

And sometimes—

it may not even be detected by our senses before it is too late.

A hazardous atmosphere can cause a person to collapse before he has enough time to call for help.

That is why confined-space work cannot depend on experience alone.

Saying:

“I have entered this place many times before.”

is not evidence that it is safe today.

MALAYSIA'S JOURNEY TOWARDS CONFINED-SPACE SAFETY

The tragedy happened in 2009.

At that time, Malaysia already had the Occupational Safety and Health Act 1994, which established broad responsibilities for employers to protect the safety, health and welfare of workers.

But Malaysia's specific confined-space safety system was still developing.

In 2008, the Department of Occupational Safety and Health, JKKP/DOSH, had already established guidelines relating to confined-space worker training, training-centre registration and the conduct of confined-space safety and health courses.

Then came a major milestone.

On 20 September 2010, JKKP published the:

Industry Code of Practice for Safe Working in a Confined Space 2010.

This became an important reference for controlling confined-space work in Malaysia.

The philosophy of confined-space work increasingly changed from:

“Enter and do the job.”

to:

Risk Assessment.

Isolation.

Atmospheric Testing.

Ventilation.

Permit to Work.

Competent Personnel.

Standby Person.

Communication.

Rescue Planning.

Emergency Response.

That was a major change in safety culture.

DO NOT ENTER TO RESCUE

There is another painful lesson contained within confined-space tragedies.

When somebody collapses inside a confined space, the natural human reaction is:

“Go in and save him!”

But in a confined space, an unplanned rescue can create another victim.

One person collapses.

Another person enters.

The second person collapses.

A third person enters.

The third person collapses.

Within minutes—

one victim can become two.

Two can become three.

And a single accident becomes a multiple-fatality tragedy.

That is why modern confined-space safety places so much emphasis on:

planned rescue.

Not spontaneous rescue.

Not bravery alone.

Not entering blindly because someone is your friend.

But rescue based on:

procedure, training, equipment and competent personnel.

ALMOST 17 YEARS LATER

Today, almost 17 years have passed since that tragedy.

Can we say that the same thing can never happen again?

No.

As long as confined spaces exist—

the risk remains.

As long as people work—

human error remains possible.

As long as industrial processes operate—

conditions can change.

And as long as people assume that a familiar job does not need to be reassessed—

accidents can happen.

Today we have better knowledge.

More training.

Better equipment.

More detailed procedures.

More competent personnel.

But all of these controls are only effective if people actually use them.

DO NOT LET THEIR DEATHS BE IN VAIN

We cannot bring those three men back.

But their deaths can become a lesson for the generations that follow.

Every time we see a bunker—

remember them.

Every time we open a manhole

remember them.

Every time someone prepares to enter a tank

remember them.

And whenever someone says:

“Don't worry. I've done this many times before.”

Stop.

Think.

Ask again:

“Have we proved that this space is safe today?”

SAFETY IS MORE THAN A DOCUMENT

At every workplace, the confined-space requirements and safe-working practices must be implemented seriously.

Workers must receive appropriate training.

Gas detectors must be available, suitable and properly maintained.

Rescue equipment must be available.

Permit systems must actually control the work.

Isolation must be verified.

The atmosphere must be tested.

Standby personnel must understand their responsibilities.

And the rescue plan must be practical—not simply a document sitting inside a file.

Because when someone collapses inside a confined space—

we may have only minutes to save a life.

THE LESSON

When I received the news about the deaths of those three colleagues almost three years after I had moved away, I never imagined that one incident inside a palm kernel bunker would stay with me for so long.

Looking back today, I realize that the tragedy was not simply about three people making mistakes.

It was about:

limited awareness,

immature procedures,

changes in the physical environment,

an unknown hazardous atmosphere,

and perhaps most importantly—

the assumption that a routine job must therefore be a safe job.

That is what we must change.

Because safety is not about how many times we have completed a task without an accident.

Safety is about making sure—

the next time is safe too.

Those three colleagues are gone.

But their story still has a purpose.

It can remind us that every bunker, tank, vessel, pit and manhole deserves respect.

Every confined space deserves assessment.

Every entry deserves proper control.

Every worker deserves to go home.

Because as long as the hazard exists—

the possibility of an accident exists.

Never become complacent.

Never assume that routine means safe.

Never enter without establishing that the space is safe.

And above all -

NEVER SACRIFICE A HUMAN LIFE FOR A JOB THAT CAN BE STOPPED.

That is my story today.

BEM Form of Contract & Scale of Fees

The Board of Engineers Malaysia (BEM) Form of Contract and Scale of Fees set the mandatory professional rules, service scopes, and minimum payment percentages for consulting engineers. You can access official regulatory guidelines and documents directly via the Board of Engineers Malaysia portal. 

Structure of the Scale of Fees

Part A (Professional Services): Outlines core engineering duties like design, planning, and supervision.
Part B (Scale of Fees): Provides calculation tables and percentage fees based on total project and construction costs.
Part C (Other Payments): Covers reimbursements, specialized site staff, and extra consultative expenses. 

Key Principles

Cost Brackets: Fees scale proportionally using maximum and minimum percentages tied to total construction value.
Complexity Classes: Different engineering works are categorized by technical difficulty rather than a single flat rate.
Public Protection: Designed to prevent severe undercutting that risks public safety and structural integrity. 

Engineering Consultancy Practices (ECPs)

Under the Registration of Engineers Act 1967 (REA) in Malaysia, an Engineering Consultancy Practice (ECP) must be registered with the Board of Engineers Malaysia (BEM) to supply professional engineering services. ECPs can be formed as a sole proprietorship, partnership, or body corporate under Section 7A (single discipline) or Section 7B (multi-disciplinary practice). 

Formation & Structure

Sole Proprietorship: The sole owner must be a Professional Engineer with a Practising Certificate (PEPC). No minimum paid-up capital is required. 
Partnership: All partners in the firm must be registered Professional Engineers with a Practising Certificate (PEPC). 
Body Corporate (Company): Must maintain a formal corporate structure with a minimum paid-up capital of RM50,000. Equity restrictions requiring a minimum percentage of shares to be held by PEPCs were lifted in 2022, allowing shares to be held by any person or corporate body. 

Board Composition & Requirements

Director Control: At least two-thirds (2/3) of the members of the Board of Directors must be Professional Engineers with a Practising Certificate (PEPC). 
Authorized Decision Maker: At least one director must be explicitly authorized by a board resolution to make all final engineering decisions on behalf of the body corporate. 
Scope of Authority: Only a registered ECP or a resident PEPC is legally entitled to submit engineering plans, drawings, designs, or reports to public authorities and clients in Malaysia. 

Letter of Release

The Letter of Release is an essential ethical and legal document under Malaysian engineering practice, preventing professional supplanting, resolving fee disputes, and ensuring smooth project handovers. It is governed by the Board of Engineers Malaysia (BEM) under the Registration of Engineers Act 1967 regulations. 

Purpose and Legal Context

Regulation Compliance: It acts as written consent under Regulation 31 of the Registration of Engineers Regulations, stopping a second engineer from taking over ongoing work without clearance. 
Anti-Supplanting: It protects a registered engineer's professional territory and reputation from unethical replacement by peers. 
Statutory Overriding: Statutory rules enforced by BEM override any conflicting private contract terms attempting to force automated releases. 

Handling Fee Disputes and Handover Procedures

14-Day Rule: The first engineer must reply or issue the release within 14 days of a formal request from the second engineer. 
Stakeholder Mechanism: If unpaid fees are disputed, the client can use a BEM Form SH to deposit a stakeholder sum with BEM, prompting the board to authorize the handover. 
BEM Intervention: If the first engineer fails to respond, BEM can issue a confirmation letter making the release unnecessary so the project can proceed safely.