We were able to get help from an electrical expert from Mombassa named Mr. Kimani. Mr. Kimani owns a workshop for electrical equipment repair and he also teaches at Mombassa Polytechnic. He confirmed that the synchronizing panel was working fine. He also suspected that something with the droop CT’s might be the problem. We decided that they should be located somewhere on the generators, near the Automatic Voltage Regulator. After opening up one of the machines we located a droop CT and found it disconnected from the AVR. The second machine, the one that was taken to be rewound, did not have the droop CT installed. No one knows where it might have disappeared to. We are sure that replacing it will go a long way to solving the problem because connecting the droop CT on the first machine brought the inter-circulating currents down by half. If we can get the second one replaced from the manufacturer the currents should drop all the way down to near zero.
What bothers me is that I still can’t figure out why there are these inter-circulating currents in the first place. A voltage difference between the two generators would produce current nearly 90 degrees out of phase with the voltage, but we see the zero volt meter drop to zero and remain at that level even when the machines are connected. According to Ohm’s Law for AC circuits, the current between the two machines must be zero if the voltage drop between the machines is zero. Hopefully that question will just remain a curiosity and the problem will disappear with the installation of the second droop CT. The manufacture of the generator sent us a quote indicating the parts can be shipped to us in five days and that the total cost will be only about $300.
Saturday, October 28, 2006
October 21, 2006: Kikuyu Marriage Ceremony
Customarily, when two Kikuyu are ready to be married, the groom sends a mzee to the home of the bride to discuss the prospects of marrying the two. I get the impression that the mzee is very subtle with his language when speaking with the parents. He will say things like, “this young man has spied a very beautiful flower growing at your home”.
Isaac and Beth didn’t quite follow tradition; instead Beth’s parents just found her one day living Isaac’s home instead of their home. Beth and Isaac decided to go ahead and do things properly even though they have been together for a while – Susan is around four years old. One of the main parts of doing things properly is that Isaac needed to pay the dowry to Beth’s parents. I lucked out again and was invited to join Isaac and family on the day of the marriage ceremony.
Unfortunately the weather for the day again called for canoes instead of t-shirts. I rode out to Isaac’s home around 11:30 am and met with his cousin along the way. About half way to Isaac’s house we pulled off the road to someone’s house to hide under the awning while a burst of rain passed.
Outside of Isaac’s house was a swamp, but inside was filled with relative’s getting ready for the day. Beth and Paul’s wife (also Beth) were sowing the last bits together for the dress of Paul’s daughter, while Isaac was wandering around making sure the last details were ready. There are only two vehicles for hire in Mpeketoni so transporting 17 of us to Beth’s parents house was not a simple task. Can you guess how many vehicles and how many trips it took to get us all to their house? Yep, you guessed it: one vehicle, one trip, four cases of sodas, and 17 people crammed like sardines into a Red Cross Land Cruiser.
The good thing was that the trip was relatively short – it took only about thirty minutes of beat up roads to get out to Beth’s parent’s house. Issac’s brother Paul kept asking me how I liked Mpeketoni’s airplane. “Turbulent”, I told him, “turbulent.” When we arrived Beth’s family greeted us in the compound and immediately invited us into the house. Not surprisingly, cramming all of Beth’s family and us into the house somewhat resembled the configuration of the Land Cruiser. The plushest chairs were reserved for the two wazee, one spokesman for the groom and one for the bride’s family. Again all of it was in Kikuyu so I didn’t follow much of what was going on. What I do know is that we ate a lot of food.
Once we were settled in the house and had introduced ourselves the bride’s family served mukimo a stiff version of mashed potatoes mixed with a few greens, corn, and beans. The best part is that they just walked around the room and plopped a hunk of mukimo into our hands. No plates, no napkins, and no silverware to clean up afterward. Mukimo is served to signify the host welcoming the guests into the house. During traditional ceremonies like this you are not welcomed unless you are served mukimo.
The main course followed the mukimo. We were each served a heaping plate of rice with goat meat and potatoes. During the meal there was quite a bit of teasing and laughter going back and forth. The mzee for Isaac, Joel, kept putting his potatoes on Paul’s plate forcing him to eat more and more so as not to be rude to the hosts.
After the main course the rain died down so we moved all of the furniture out into the compound. Even before getting a chance to sit down we were already served with more food: this time chipati and chai (tea).
Joel then asked for a shallow basket. He pulled out the money that Isaac had given him earlier and counted it out into the basket. He then passed it on to the mzee for Beth’s family. The mzee for Beth’s family again counted out the money, this time spreading out the money in the basket to signify that it was a large amount of money. He passed the basket on to Beth’s parents to count it one last time. The mzee for Beth’s parents then announced a few other items that they demanded as part of the dowry. After a little bit of deliberation, Joel decided to discuss things with Isaac’s brothers and his mom. They went off to one side to huddle while Beth’s family went to off to huddle on the other side. Neither Isaac nor Beth were involved in any of the deliberations.
When they all came back they reached a consensus and any other demands were met with a monetary equivalent payment to the parents. Once both sides were satisfied Isaacs aunts were asked to bring the sodas. The opening the sodas was the last step to symbolize of the completion of the dowry. After a few minutes we saw that the aunts were deliberating outside the doors of the house. Beth’s family had moved the sodas into the house and then locked the doors. If they wanted to get inside, they were going to have to pay for the key. Isaac had expected he would be wrung out for money in this way so he had already given money to his aunts in case such things would happen.
After paying for the key to the house, they brought out the sodas and I brought out the camera. No one was in the mood for a huge group photo so Beth asked me to just take pictures of everyone as they were. It seemed that the best way to get your picture taken was either to be seen drinking a soda or opening one of the sodas. I was one of the few weirdos that just smiled and looked at the camera.
On a somewhat unrelated note, as we were waiting for the Red Cross vehicle to come back and pick us up a few young males came by trying to sell meat. They were drunk from some of the local moonshine but even the smell of their breath couldn’t mask the smell of the meat. One had a chuck of the meat hanging from the handlebars of his bike. It was a purplish, gray, green color. It turns out a hippo had died in Lake Kenyatta not far from Beth’s parents home. These young men decided to push the rotting carcass to shore and slaughter it for dog food. They said all you’d have to do is boil it and get the temperature of the meat up to 60 C and it should be fine. I think I’d rather have matumbo ya mbuzi.
A fraction of the total number of people we fit in the Land Crusier. Isaac's mom, Wanjiku is on the far right
Isaac and Beth didn’t quite follow tradition; instead Beth’s parents just found her one day living Isaac’s home instead of their home. Beth and Isaac decided to go ahead and do things properly even though they have been together for a while – Susan is around four years old. One of the main parts of doing things properly is that Isaac needed to pay the dowry to Beth’s parents. I lucked out again and was invited to join Isaac and family on the day of the marriage ceremony.
Unfortunately the weather for the day again called for canoes instead of t-shirts. I rode out to Isaac’s home around 11:30 am and met with his cousin along the way. About half way to Isaac’s house we pulled off the road to someone’s house to hide under the awning while a burst of rain passed.
Outside of Isaac’s house was a swamp, but inside was filled with relative’s getting ready for the day. Beth and Paul’s wife (also Beth) were sowing the last bits together for the dress of Paul’s daughter, while Isaac was wandering around making sure the last details were ready. There are only two vehicles for hire in Mpeketoni so transporting 17 of us to Beth’s parents house was not a simple task. Can you guess how many vehicles and how many trips it took to get us all to their house? Yep, you guessed it: one vehicle, one trip, four cases of sodas, and 17 people crammed like sardines into a Red Cross Land Cruiser.
From L to R: Isaac's Mzee Joel, Isaacs cousin Charles, Isaacs brothers Jeff and Paul
The good thing was that the trip was relatively short – it took only about thirty minutes of beat up roads to get out to Beth’s parent’s house. Issac’s brother Paul kept asking me how I liked Mpeketoni’s airplane. “Turbulent”, I told him, “turbulent.” When we arrived Beth’s family greeted us in the compound and immediately invited us into the house. Not surprisingly, cramming all of Beth’s family and us into the house somewhat resembled the configuration of the Land Cruiser. The plushest chairs were reserved for the two wazee, one spokesman for the groom and one for the bride’s family. Again all of it was in Kikuyu so I didn’t follow much of what was going on. What I do know is that we ate a lot of food.
Once we were settled in the house and had introduced ourselves the bride’s family served mukimo a stiff version of mashed potatoes mixed with a few greens, corn, and beans. The best part is that they just walked around the room and plopped a hunk of mukimo into our hands. No plates, no napkins, and no silverware to clean up afterward. Mukimo is served to signify the host welcoming the guests into the house. During traditional ceremonies like this you are not welcomed unless you are served mukimo.
From L to R: Issacs cousin and the man himself - Isaac.
The main course followed the mukimo. We were each served a heaping plate of rice with goat meat and potatoes. During the meal there was quite a bit of teasing and laughter going back and forth. The mzee for Isaac, Joel, kept putting his potatoes on Paul’s plate forcing him to eat more and more so as not to be rude to the hosts.
After the main course the rain died down so we moved all of the furniture out into the compound. Even before getting a chance to sit down we were already served with more food: this time chipati and chai (tea).
Joel then asked for a shallow basket. He pulled out the money that Isaac had given him earlier and counted it out into the basket. He then passed it on to the mzee for Beth’s family. The mzee for Beth’s family again counted out the money, this time spreading out the money in the basket to signify that it was a large amount of money. He passed the basket on to Beth’s parents to count it one last time. The mzee for Beth’s parents then announced a few other items that they demanded as part of the dowry. After a little bit of deliberation, Joel decided to discuss things with Isaac’s brothers and his mom. They went off to one side to huddle while Beth’s family went to off to huddle on the other side. Neither Isaac nor Beth were involved in any of the deliberations.
Isaacs wife Beth is in the middle and thier daughter Susan is on the right
When they all came back they reached a consensus and any other demands were met with a monetary equivalent payment to the parents. Once both sides were satisfied Isaacs aunts were asked to bring the sodas. The opening the sodas was the last step to symbolize of the completion of the dowry. After a few minutes we saw that the aunts were deliberating outside the doors of the house. Beth’s family had moved the sodas into the house and then locked the doors. If they wanted to get inside, they were going to have to pay for the key. Isaac had expected he would be wrung out for money in this way so he had already given money to his aunts in case such things would happen.
Susan and Mama Susan
After paying for the key to the house, they brought out the sodas and I brought out the camera. No one was in the mood for a huge group photo so Beth asked me to just take pictures of everyone as they were. It seemed that the best way to get your picture taken was either to be seen drinking a soda or opening one of the sodas. I was one of the few weirdos that just smiled and looked at the camera.
The ladies: the wife of Jeff (I cannot remember her name), Beth, and Pauls wife Beth
On a somewhat unrelated note, as we were waiting for the Red Cross vehicle to come back and pick us up a few young males came by trying to sell meat. They were drunk from some of the local moonshine but even the smell of their breath couldn’t mask the smell of the meat. One had a chuck of the meat hanging from the handlebars of his bike. It was a purplish, gray, green color. It turns out a hippo had died in Lake Kenyatta not far from Beth’s parents home. These young men decided to push the rotting carcass to shore and slaughter it for dog food. They said all you’d have to do is boil it and get the temperature of the meat up to 60 C and it should be fine. I think I’d rather have matumbo ya mbuzi.
October 19, 2006: Harambee
Mzee Jomo Kenyatta, the first president of Kenya, is known as the father of the Harambee. The idea is that people of the country, wananchi, should pull together and help one another whenever there is a problem. It can be as simple as passers by joining together to help push a car out of the mud or the wazee from a community calling for people to help contribute to a person in need. It seems that the idea is firmly rooted in Kenyan culture, especially in the rural areas.
Right now there is a student from a technical college in Kenya called Thika Technical Institute that is doing his “attachment” part of his diploma with MEP. His name is James Kimani. Kimani helps the technicians with any job like climbing the poles to change the lines during rationing or bringing diesel from the main storage tank to the generator fuel tanks. When there is nothing else going on he reads through his college notes and reviews topics from his previous classes.
Kimani is originally from the Lake Kenyatta Settlement Scheme and his father is good friends with the Chairman of the Supervisory Board of MEP. Kimani’s parents live about a 45 minute bike ride from Mpeketoni near a very small town called Kiongwe with his younger brother. Kimani also stays there when he is on break from classes and during his attachment.
Their primary source of income is farming on the ten-acre plot (a shamba) so coming up with Kimani’s school fees has not been easy. When he goes back to classes in January it will be his final year of school. In the final year you must pay extra for examination fees and for a final project. His dad decided to gather the wazee from the area and organize a harambee this year to help raise funds for his final year of school.
When Kimani mentioned the harambee, he said people either send their contribution through a close family friend or they attend the harambee themselves. Even though it meant ditching out on an afternoon of work at MEP, I decided I couldn’t pass up the chance to participate in the harambee.
Kimani and I met in town on the day of the harambee to collect a speaker system. I thought he was going to just grab a hand-held megaphone, but instead we picked up a giant bell shaped speaker. It looked like it was pulled straight off of an air raid siren from WWII. Lacking any other means, we loaded the speaker onto the back of my bike and the power supply/ amplifier onto Kimani’s bike.
Kiongwe is not on one of the major roads extending out from Mpeketoni. Instead we followed a convoluted network of field paths for about 45 minutes to get to his home. Their home consists of three separate mud wall structures with makuti roofs. The largest is the home of his parents and the smaller two were the homes for him and his brother. In Kikuyu tradition, once a boy turns 14 he becomes a young man and is kicked out of his father’s house. He has to build his own home but at least he gets to build it on the same compound. Kimani is 25 so his house is starting to get a bit run down with age.
When we arrived, his parents and friends had already pulled out all of their furniture into the compound area. Since it was raining they propped up three or four old UN relief tarps over the seating area. We hung the speaker from a nearby tree and plugged the power supply into car battery. The battery is the sole source of electricity for the family. Instead of buying a solar panel they just carry the battery to town on the back of a bike every few weeks to recharge it.
For entertainment Kimani brought out a radio/cassette player to broadcast out music for all the neighboring shambas. I challenge anyone to find a more beat up tape player than this one. The door for the cassette was long gone, a shoe lace was used to hold the front half of the cassette player to the back half, and the original speaker no longer worked so leads came out of the player to a second freely hanging speaker. We cranked up the volume and held the microphone for the public address system to the small speaker to enjoy some customary Kenyan music.
As the afternoon went on people from the community made their way to the compound. All of the females sat on benches near the parents’ house while males would make their way to the seating area under the tarps. As soon as a new guest would arrive he would come shake every persons hand and would be promptly served a dish of rice and potatoes.
Around 5 pm the compound was packed with people. The females came to join the males at the main seating area and the MC for the night began. I think he was speaking in Kikuyu so I really didn’t understand anything. But after a few wazee passed around the microphone, a bag was placed on a table in front of the MC and people would come to the front to put the contribution into the bag.
Kimani’s father walked up to the front first to put in his symbolic contribution. Then another after another came up right after him. As a person would come up the MC would announce the person’s name and the amount they were contributing. Some people would be contributing for many people that weren’t able to attend so the MC would read off a list of how much each person contributed. After each contribution the group would clap. The large contributions were a thousand or two shillings, usually from someone that was contributing from many people at once. Those who did not have money to contribute would bring items like a bag of groundnuts, a few kg’s of corn, or a live chicken or two.
When there were no more contributions, the MC handed over the mic to an auctioneer to auction off the non-monetary items. At the end all of the money that was raised was announced to the group. Kimani was able to raise around 20,000 KSh (US$290) from all of the contributions. The funds raised will meet about half of his total school fees for the next year.
The fundraising continued later into the night, but the main part of it was done by the time it became dark. Even though it was about a 40-minute bike ride each way Kimani offered to take me back to Mpeketoni. I thought I would be okay on my own if he just showed me the way to the main roads. But soon after we got underway I found that every time I went through a mud puddle the dynamo for my light would lose friction with the tire and the light would go dim. Luckily he was more than happy to escort me all the way back through the dark.
Soon after we reached a main road I heard Kimani yell back – “Don’t come this way! Don’t come this way!” But I was right behind him. A puddle that he thought was just a small one turned out to be a 20 foot long, two foot deep lake in the middle of the road. We pedaled as hard as we could to keep up momentum but about half way through the lake we could go no further. We had to bail off the bikes and walk the rest of the way through it to the road. He was worried that I would be upset about having to splash though the puddle. On the contrary I was having a great time – it was just like being back in the puddles at home! Unfortunately, these giant puddles are from the short rains - the long rains season starts in March. I may need a canoe by then!
Right now there is a student from a technical college in Kenya called Thika Technical Institute that is doing his “attachment” part of his diploma with MEP. His name is James Kimani. Kimani helps the technicians with any job like climbing the poles to change the lines during rationing or bringing diesel from the main storage tank to the generator fuel tanks. When there is nothing else going on he reads through his college notes and reviews topics from his previous classes.
Kimani is originally from the Lake Kenyatta Settlement Scheme and his father is good friends with the Chairman of the Supervisory Board of MEP. Kimani’s parents live about a 45 minute bike ride from Mpeketoni near a very small town called Kiongwe with his younger brother. Kimani also stays there when he is on break from classes and during his attachment.
Their primary source of income is farming on the ten-acre plot (a shamba) so coming up with Kimani’s school fees has not been easy. When he goes back to classes in January it will be his final year of school. In the final year you must pay extra for examination fees and for a final project. His dad decided to gather the wazee from the area and organize a harambee this year to help raise funds for his final year of school.
When Kimani mentioned the harambee, he said people either send their contribution through a close family friend or they attend the harambee themselves. Even though it meant ditching out on an afternoon of work at MEP, I decided I couldn’t pass up the chance to participate in the harambee.
Kimani and I met in town on the day of the harambee to collect a speaker system. I thought he was going to just grab a hand-held megaphone, but instead we picked up a giant bell shaped speaker. It looked like it was pulled straight off of an air raid siren from WWII. Lacking any other means, we loaded the speaker onto the back of my bike and the power supply/ amplifier onto Kimani’s bike.
Kiongwe is not on one of the major roads extending out from Mpeketoni. Instead we followed a convoluted network of field paths for about 45 minutes to get to his home. Their home consists of three separate mud wall structures with makuti roofs. The largest is the home of his parents and the smaller two were the homes for him and his brother. In Kikuyu tradition, once a boy turns 14 he becomes a young man and is kicked out of his father’s house. He has to build his own home but at least he gets to build it on the same compound. Kimani is 25 so his house is starting to get a bit run down with age.
When we arrived, his parents and friends had already pulled out all of their furniture into the compound area. Since it was raining they propped up three or four old UN relief tarps over the seating area. We hung the speaker from a nearby tree and plugged the power supply into car battery. The battery is the sole source of electricity for the family. Instead of buying a solar panel they just carry the battery to town on the back of a bike every few weeks to recharge it.
For entertainment Kimani brought out a radio/cassette player to broadcast out music for all the neighboring shambas. I challenge anyone to find a more beat up tape player than this one. The door for the cassette was long gone, a shoe lace was used to hold the front half of the cassette player to the back half, and the original speaker no longer worked so leads came out of the player to a second freely hanging speaker. We cranked up the volume and held the microphone for the public address system to the small speaker to enjoy some customary Kenyan music.
As the afternoon went on people from the community made their way to the compound. All of the females sat on benches near the parents’ house while males would make their way to the seating area under the tarps. As soon as a new guest would arrive he would come shake every persons hand and would be promptly served a dish of rice and potatoes.
Around 5 pm the compound was packed with people. The females came to join the males at the main seating area and the MC for the night began. I think he was speaking in Kikuyu so I really didn’t understand anything. But after a few wazee passed around the microphone, a bag was placed on a table in front of the MC and people would come to the front to put the contribution into the bag.
Kimani’s father walked up to the front first to put in his symbolic contribution. Then another after another came up right after him. As a person would come up the MC would announce the person’s name and the amount they were contributing. Some people would be contributing for many people that weren’t able to attend so the MC would read off a list of how much each person contributed. After each contribution the group would clap. The large contributions were a thousand or two shillings, usually from someone that was contributing from many people at once. Those who did not have money to contribute would bring items like a bag of groundnuts, a few kg’s of corn, or a live chicken or two.
When there were no more contributions, the MC handed over the mic to an auctioneer to auction off the non-monetary items. At the end all of the money that was raised was announced to the group. Kimani was able to raise around 20,000 KSh (US$290) from all of the contributions. The funds raised will meet about half of his total school fees for the next year.
The fundraising continued later into the night, but the main part of it was done by the time it became dark. Even though it was about a 40-minute bike ride each way Kimani offered to take me back to Mpeketoni. I thought I would be okay on my own if he just showed me the way to the main roads. But soon after we got underway I found that every time I went through a mud puddle the dynamo for my light would lose friction with the tire and the light would go dim. Luckily he was more than happy to escort me all the way back through the dark.
Soon after we reached a main road I heard Kimani yell back – “Don’t come this way! Don’t come this way!” But I was right behind him. A puddle that he thought was just a small one turned out to be a 20 foot long, two foot deep lake in the middle of the road. We pedaled as hard as we could to keep up momentum but about half way through the lake we could go no further. We had to bail off the bikes and walk the rest of the way through it to the road. He was worried that I would be upset about having to splash though the puddle. On the contrary I was having a great time – it was just like being back in the puddles at home! Unfortunately, these giant puddles are from the short rains - the long rains season starts in March. I may need a canoe by then!
October 27, 2006: Sitaki matumbo ya mbuzi!
While I am staying at the Havanna Guest House, the Supervisory Board of MEP arranged for Havanna to provide full board, clean my room, and to do my laundry. Good for me, not so good for Emma. Emma is the lucky one who gets to implement the deal that the Board arranged. She has been working at Havanna for about a year. The owner of the place, Anna, stops by once or twice a month and the rest of the time Emma is responsible for running the place. In return for working every day that I have been here (even Sundays) from 6am until the last customers leave late at night she is paid 3,000 KSh per month ($43 US). She does have the perks of getting to sleep in one of the rooms at the guest house along with a 100KSh/day meal allowance, but it is literally criminal to have her working like that. Kenyan labor laws state that no one should be required to work more than eight hours per day, but Anna refuses to even sign work contracts with any of the employees. One of Emma’s assistants had not been paid for four months so according to Emma he finally decided to quit without his back pay. Emma doesn’t have any other promising leads for a different job so she is reluctant to stick up for herself.
Nevertheless, Emma takes very good care of me. She helps me with practicing Kiswahili in the mornings and makes sure I have a good story each day about how crazy Africans are. “You know, we Africans are clazy” she says, shaking her head. (R’s and L’s get switched around in pronunciation quite often).
She also introduces me to African dishes. I eat lots of sukumo wiki (greens with ugali), chipati and cabbage with goat meat, pilau (rice, potatoes, and goat), githeri (beans and maize), and maharagwe (just beans).
One day she brought out a dish that looked similar to the chipati, cabbage, and goat meat that I had eaten many times before. The only difference was that the meat looked a little weird – almost a little spiny and spongier than normal. I started eating the cabbage but couldn’t help notice a strange flavor even though I hadn’t touched the chunks of meat in the cabbage.
Emma noticed me having a bit of trouble eating the meal so she came back over to the table to check on me. I had my suspicions, but I went ahead and asked Emma what kind of meat it was.
“That’s matumbo ya mbuzi” she said. “What’s wrong? I can tell you don’t like it.”
I understood the mbuzi part – that is Kiswhaili for goat, but I didn’t know the rest. “What’s matumbo?” I asked.
“Intestines” she replied, pointing to her stomach.
“Oh… intestines….”
So Emma got my lunch that day and I got hers. We were both winners – she got to eat a good meal and I didn’t have to eat intestines.
Not much more than a week or two later I noticed the same strange flavor in a stew with potatoes and small chunks of meat. I went ahead and finished the stew, but left the small chunks of meat. “Were there intestines in that stew?” I asked Emma.
I learned a new phrase that day. To want something is kutaka. If you don’t want something you say sitaki. The phrase for the day was “Sitaki matumbo ya mbuzi!” We continue to get a good laugh out of that one. But now she has turned to trying to get me to eat goat liver. Let’s just say she got another good meal out of that.
Based on her not-so-ideal working conditions, Emma is also my key informant on how much Kenyans suffer. Previous to the current President, school fees were the responsibility of each student for both primary and secondary school. Nowadays, families still have to pay for secondary school, but primary school is free. Back when Emma was in primary school, if your family couldn’t cover your school fees, you were sent home until they could come up with the money. Emma is from bara (up-country), which refers to the central highlands, an area ideal for tea and coffee growing. When her parents couldn’t come up with her school fees she would go home and pick tea on her parents land until they had enough to send her back to school.
To pick tea you put a sack on your back that is attached to you by a strap that goes around your head like a headband. You walk sidewise along the rows of tea, picking leaves and tossing them over your shoulders into the sack. According to Emma it is always tea-picking season. You just find a row that is ready to be picked and start going. By the time you finish one row another will be ready for picking.
Emma made it through secondary and primary school, but wasn’t able to come up with enough funds to finish college. She spent one year in Nairobi going to school for a diploma in food and hospitality. After the year funds ran out so she started looking for work. The best she could find was working for the sister of one of her neighbors from back home – Anna at Havanna.
Emma is very caring and kind, which I have found to be the case for many of the women in this area. But she also has a very strong personality, which I haven’t found very much in other women her age here. Most women seem to quietly accept the subordinate role given to them by their husbands, but Emma sticks up for herself and is sure to let someone know when they are being rude or improper. I have heard many men complain that their wives are not as submissive as they used to be. I’m sure it’s females like Emma that try to get through college and work for themselves for a while instead of immediately marrying that are helping to bring the changes about.
Nevertheless, Emma takes very good care of me. She helps me with practicing Kiswahili in the mornings and makes sure I have a good story each day about how crazy Africans are. “You know, we Africans are clazy” she says, shaking her head. (R’s and L’s get switched around in pronunciation quite often).
She also introduces me to African dishes. I eat lots of sukumo wiki (greens with ugali), chipati and cabbage with goat meat, pilau (rice, potatoes, and goat), githeri (beans and maize), and maharagwe (just beans).
One day she brought out a dish that looked similar to the chipati, cabbage, and goat meat that I had eaten many times before. The only difference was that the meat looked a little weird – almost a little spiny and spongier than normal. I started eating the cabbage but couldn’t help notice a strange flavor even though I hadn’t touched the chunks of meat in the cabbage.
Emma noticed me having a bit of trouble eating the meal so she came back over to the table to check on me. I had my suspicions, but I went ahead and asked Emma what kind of meat it was.
“That’s matumbo ya mbuzi” she said. “What’s wrong? I can tell you don’t like it.”
I understood the mbuzi part – that is Kiswhaili for goat, but I didn’t know the rest. “What’s matumbo?” I asked.
“Intestines” she replied, pointing to her stomach.
“Oh… intestines….”
So Emma got my lunch that day and I got hers. We were both winners – she got to eat a good meal and I didn’t have to eat intestines.
Not much more than a week or two later I noticed the same strange flavor in a stew with potatoes and small chunks of meat. I went ahead and finished the stew, but left the small chunks of meat. “Were there intestines in that stew?” I asked Emma.
I learned a new phrase that day. To want something is kutaka. If you don’t want something you say sitaki. The phrase for the day was “Sitaki matumbo ya mbuzi!” We continue to get a good laugh out of that one. But now she has turned to trying to get me to eat goat liver. Let’s just say she got another good meal out of that.
Based on her not-so-ideal working conditions, Emma is also my key informant on how much Kenyans suffer. Previous to the current President, school fees were the responsibility of each student for both primary and secondary school. Nowadays, families still have to pay for secondary school, but primary school is free. Back when Emma was in primary school, if your family couldn’t cover your school fees, you were sent home until they could come up with the money. Emma is from bara (up-country), which refers to the central highlands, an area ideal for tea and coffee growing. When her parents couldn’t come up with her school fees she would go home and pick tea on her parents land until they had enough to send her back to school.
To pick tea you put a sack on your back that is attached to you by a strap that goes around your head like a headband. You walk sidewise along the rows of tea, picking leaves and tossing them over your shoulders into the sack. According to Emma it is always tea-picking season. You just find a row that is ready to be picked and start going. By the time you finish one row another will be ready for picking.
Emma made it through secondary and primary school, but wasn’t able to come up with enough funds to finish college. She spent one year in Nairobi going to school for a diploma in food and hospitality. After the year funds ran out so she started looking for work. The best she could find was working for the sister of one of her neighbors from back home – Anna at Havanna.
Emma is very caring and kind, which I have found to be the case for many of the women in this area. But she also has a very strong personality, which I haven’t found very much in other women her age here. Most women seem to quietly accept the subordinate role given to them by their husbands, but Emma sticks up for herself and is sure to let someone know when they are being rude or improper. I have heard many men complain that their wives are not as submissive as they used to be. I’m sure it’s females like Emma that try to get through college and work for themselves for a while instead of immediately marrying that are helping to bring the changes about.
October 13, 2006 - Lamu: A man without a donkey is a donkey
The title is an old Arab proverb I heard someone use to describe Lamu. It is quite fitting as Lamu has only one “road” the rest of the town is all narrow paths that weave through the hilly coastal town. The paths are too narrow for a car, but just wide enough for a donkey to pass by pedestrians pressed against the walls. At times it seems as though the number of donkeys and the number of people are about even.
Lamu is a town on an island just off the mainland of Kenya. It was founded by Arab traders and has managed to retain its Arabic flavor through today. There are no bridges across to the island, as the residents prefer to keep vehicles off. The only vehicle that I’ve seen belongs to the District Commissioner. The remaining forms of transport are the donkeys and people. And so it goes - if you are not wealthy enough to afford a donkey to haul bricks or produce through town, you become the donkey and start hauling.
Lamu is a major tourist destination in the region due to the unique character, great beaches, and cheap sailboat rides out to mangroves or snorkeling spots. I however go for one reason: the Internet! Lamu has the nearest working Internet connection to Mpeketoni. Being that it is only about 60 km from Mpeketoni you’d think that it would be an easy trip. Not so!
The three buses a day to Lamu come one each hour starting at 11:30am. The trip to the boats that take you across to Lamu then takes about 2 - 2.5 hours due to the conditions of the roads and the frequent stops. Once you get to the boats it is another thirty-minute ride to get to Lamu town. The last bus from Lamu to Mpeketoni leaves at about 4pm. So it works out that if you catch the first bus from Mpeketoni to Lamu you can still get back to Mpeketoni on the same day if you only spend an hour in Lamu.
And who would spend five hours traveling over beat-up, bumpy roads just to spend an hour in Lamu? That’s right – a Mzungu in search of the Internet... But alas, I was not able to finish things in Lamu before the last boat left for the mainland. I tried to be quick (which explains the jumbled mess with the last post) but the Internet connection kept stalling on me. So my five hours of bus travel now included a night in Lamu.
Now with some time to spare, I decided to stop in and say a quick hello to some of Isaac’s family. His mom sells produce in an open-air market in Lamu and lives with Isaac’s cousin Mary. Mary is in Form III, which is equivalent to a Junior in high school in the States. Isaac’s wife also has a sister that lives in Lamu named Grace. Grace sells produce in the same market as Isaac’s mom (in Kenya you refer to a parent as the mother or father of the first born – in this case Isaac’s mom is Mama Jeff and Isaac is Baba Susan. Susan is named after Isaac’s mom whose name is Susan Wanjiku).
After wandering the narrow streets for a bit I found the market and Wanjiku. She recognized me but she doesn’t speak much if any English and my ability to speak Swahili doesn’t go much beyond greetings and things like Sitaki matumbo ya mbuzi! (“I don’t want goat intestines!” – more on that later). So we exchanged handshakes, smiles, and a few jumbled phrases: “Isaac good”… “home, welcome”. It was pleasant enough but also a bit silly. I’ll need to keep practicing.
I also said hello to Grace. She wanted me to pass along greetings to Isaac and Beth and to let them know that she was well and missing them. Even with the small distances, the difficult communication and travel make it so that visitors become the only sure way to pass along greetings between towns.
Grace let me know that Mary would be in classes until 5:30pm but that I should be sure to come back to say hello to her too. When I came back after booking a room for the night, the market was already closing. I continued up to Wanjiku’s house to see if I could find Mary at home. Their “house” is actually one of the more heartbreaking things about Kenya and poverty, but their hospitality and good nature in the face of poverty is moving. Mary and Wanjiku share a tenant apartment in a small block of five other apartments – three in a row facing two in a row. Mary and Mama Jeff’s entire apartment is about 9ft X 9ft and has enough room for a bench with all of the cooking items and two cots. Rent is 500 shillings per month (just over US$7). The room has one boarded up window and no lights - instead they use a kerosene lamp for lighting.
The apartments are laid out such that there is a 10ft X 20ft “courtyard” that all of the apartments face. The busted concrete courtyard is covered with a roof of woven palm leaves (makuti) that makes an excellent place to sit and enjoy the evening with the other tenants. Between the five apartments there are about three chairs and two stools that are brought out to the courtyard.
Being that I was stopping by unannounced, I planned to just stop in and say hello before heading back to finish up things with email and the Internet. Mary had not yet arrived, so I sat with a neighbor in one of the chairs until she came home. When she did get back from class I hardly had time to say two things before she told me that I would be staying for dinner. She immediately began preparing charcoal and the jiko stove to cook dinner. The jiko is a small (about 16 inches in diameter and 12 inches tall) cookstove that is a huge improvement over the old “three stone fires” that were much more common in Kenya in the past (and probably are still common in the very poor rural areas). The two main improvements are that it burns fuel much more efficiently and that it can be moved outside when it is first being heated up. Moving it outside when it is started cuts way down on the smoke that goes into the house.
Wanjiku came back from the market and joined us in the courtyard as Mary prepared dinner. Pretty soon I was found myself in a sea of lively chatter (in Swahili) as the other neighbors made their way home and also began preparing dinner out in the courtyard. Mary made a vegetable stew that was poured over a fried fish and served with a big bowl of rice. She served Wanjiku and me but said she would wait until much later in the evening to eat. Wanjiku and I managed to get a little bit further with a conversation, but it was mostly me shrugging my shoulders and her correcting my poor attempts at making sentences.
After dinner and some tea Mary offered to walk me around town. We walked past a few places where she was able to find her friends and show off her Mzungu friend. It was quite a kick. Later we ran into Grace again. The three of us went back to Grace’s place to watch TV and chat with her husband, Hussein. A pleasant night indeed. It made all the other hassles of traveling well worth it for the chance to just get to know these guys better.
By 6:30am the next morning I was on the boat back to the mainland. It had rained quite a bit the previous two nights so the roads were sloppy with mud and the potholes were filed to the top with water. It wasn’t a problem for the bus, but I couldn’t count the number of times we sent a burst of mud hurtling toward people walking on the side of the road. Many of them even tried to avoid the inevitable by moving a good six feet back into the bush for cover. Just after 9:00am we pulled into Mpeketoni - right in time to see Isaac and another technician, James, climbing a utility pole for the morning power rationing. It was good to be back.
Lamu is a town on an island just off the mainland of Kenya. It was founded by Arab traders and has managed to retain its Arabic flavor through today. There are no bridges across to the island, as the residents prefer to keep vehicles off. The only vehicle that I’ve seen belongs to the District Commissioner. The remaining forms of transport are the donkeys and people. And so it goes - if you are not wealthy enough to afford a donkey to haul bricks or produce through town, you become the donkey and start hauling.
Lamu is a major tourist destination in the region due to the unique character, great beaches, and cheap sailboat rides out to mangroves or snorkeling spots. I however go for one reason: the Internet! Lamu has the nearest working Internet connection to Mpeketoni. Being that it is only about 60 km from Mpeketoni you’d think that it would be an easy trip. Not so!
The three buses a day to Lamu come one each hour starting at 11:30am. The trip to the boats that take you across to Lamu then takes about 2 - 2.5 hours due to the conditions of the roads and the frequent stops. Once you get to the boats it is another thirty-minute ride to get to Lamu town. The last bus from Lamu to Mpeketoni leaves at about 4pm. So it works out that if you catch the first bus from Mpeketoni to Lamu you can still get back to Mpeketoni on the same day if you only spend an hour in Lamu.
And who would spend five hours traveling over beat-up, bumpy roads just to spend an hour in Lamu? That’s right – a Mzungu in search of the Internet... But alas, I was not able to finish things in Lamu before the last boat left for the mainland. I tried to be quick (which explains the jumbled mess with the last post) but the Internet connection kept stalling on me. So my five hours of bus travel now included a night in Lamu.
Now with some time to spare, I decided to stop in and say a quick hello to some of Isaac’s family. His mom sells produce in an open-air market in Lamu and lives with Isaac’s cousin Mary. Mary is in Form III, which is equivalent to a Junior in high school in the States. Isaac’s wife also has a sister that lives in Lamu named Grace. Grace sells produce in the same market as Isaac’s mom (in Kenya you refer to a parent as the mother or father of the first born – in this case Isaac’s mom is Mama Jeff and Isaac is Baba Susan. Susan is named after Isaac’s mom whose name is Susan Wanjiku).
After wandering the narrow streets for a bit I found the market and Wanjiku. She recognized me but she doesn’t speak much if any English and my ability to speak Swahili doesn’t go much beyond greetings and things like Sitaki matumbo ya mbuzi! (“I don’t want goat intestines!” – more on that later). So we exchanged handshakes, smiles, and a few jumbled phrases: “Isaac good”… “home, welcome”. It was pleasant enough but also a bit silly. I’ll need to keep practicing.
I also said hello to Grace. She wanted me to pass along greetings to Isaac and Beth and to let them know that she was well and missing them. Even with the small distances, the difficult communication and travel make it so that visitors become the only sure way to pass along greetings between towns.
Grace let me know that Mary would be in classes until 5:30pm but that I should be sure to come back to say hello to her too. When I came back after booking a room for the night, the market was already closing. I continued up to Wanjiku’s house to see if I could find Mary at home. Their “house” is actually one of the more heartbreaking things about Kenya and poverty, but their hospitality and good nature in the face of poverty is moving. Mary and Wanjiku share a tenant apartment in a small block of five other apartments – three in a row facing two in a row. Mary and Mama Jeff’s entire apartment is about 9ft X 9ft and has enough room for a bench with all of the cooking items and two cots. Rent is 500 shillings per month (just over US$7). The room has one boarded up window and no lights - instead they use a kerosene lamp for lighting.
The apartments are laid out such that there is a 10ft X 20ft “courtyard” that all of the apartments face. The busted concrete courtyard is covered with a roof of woven palm leaves (makuti) that makes an excellent place to sit and enjoy the evening with the other tenants. Between the five apartments there are about three chairs and two stools that are brought out to the courtyard.
Being that I was stopping by unannounced, I planned to just stop in and say hello before heading back to finish up things with email and the Internet. Mary had not yet arrived, so I sat with a neighbor in one of the chairs until she came home. When she did get back from class I hardly had time to say two things before she told me that I would be staying for dinner. She immediately began preparing charcoal and the jiko stove to cook dinner. The jiko is a small (about 16 inches in diameter and 12 inches tall) cookstove that is a huge improvement over the old “three stone fires” that were much more common in Kenya in the past (and probably are still common in the very poor rural areas). The two main improvements are that it burns fuel much more efficiently and that it can be moved outside when it is first being heated up. Moving it outside when it is started cuts way down on the smoke that goes into the house.
Wanjiku came back from the market and joined us in the courtyard as Mary prepared dinner. Pretty soon I was found myself in a sea of lively chatter (in Swahili) as the other neighbors made their way home and also began preparing dinner out in the courtyard. Mary made a vegetable stew that was poured over a fried fish and served with a big bowl of rice. She served Wanjiku and me but said she would wait until much later in the evening to eat. Wanjiku and I managed to get a little bit further with a conversation, but it was mostly me shrugging my shoulders and her correcting my poor attempts at making sentences.
After dinner and some tea Mary offered to walk me around town. We walked past a few places where she was able to find her friends and show off her Mzungu friend. It was quite a kick. Later we ran into Grace again. The three of us went back to Grace’s place to watch TV and chat with her husband, Hussein. A pleasant night indeed. It made all the other hassles of traveling well worth it for the chance to just get to know these guys better.
By 6:30am the next morning I was on the boat back to the mainland. It had rained quite a bit the previous two nights so the roads were sloppy with mud and the potholes were filed to the top with water. It wasn’t a problem for the bus, but I couldn’t count the number of times we sent a burst of mud hurtling toward people walking on the side of the road. Many of them even tried to avoid the inevitable by moving a good six feet back into the bush for cover. Just after 9:00am we pulled into Mpeketoni - right in time to see Isaac and another technician, James, climbing a utility pole for the morning power rationing. It was good to be back.
October 13, 2006> Everything I need to know in Kiswahili I learned from the Lion King
So my friend from college, Sam Purdy is going to make it out here to visit Nov. 18 to Dec. 3. It should be lots of fun – it’ll be my first chance to do some exploring around the country. Meanwhile, to prepare for his trip I’ve decided to help him learn some Kiswhaili. The Lion King is my primary source for understanding the language.
Simba – Simba is the main character of the story. Simba in Kiswahili means lion.
If you need to say, for instance: “Let’s go now! The lion is coming!” You can say:
Twende sasa! Simba unakuja!
-enda is the root of the verb “go” and kwenda is the infinitive form. To say “we are going”, you say tunakwenda. But to say “we go” you can shorten it to twende.
Kuja is infinitive form of “to come”. If the lion is coming, you say unakuja.
Safari – Safari is a trip or a journey. It is similar to the verb “to travel” which is kusafiri.
To say for instance, “we returned from our journey, but the hippo nearly made us lunch!” you say: Tumerudi safari, lakini kiboko karibu na unatufanya chakula cha mchana!
Kiboko is a hippo and they are very aggressive if you get between them and water. Chakula is food, and Chakula cha mchana is food of the afternoon.
Hakuna Matata- There’s no problem. If memory serves me well there is a song in the Lion King called Hakuna Matata (back me up on this one Cliff).
The phrase is commonly used to calm someone down when there is a big problem. As in “Only the axel of the bus is broken, no problem!” Axel kwa basi imevunjinka tu. Hakuna matata!
Kuna is “to have” and Ha- is a prefix indicating the negative. And matata is a problem. So “it doesn’t have a problem” – hakuna matata.
Rafiki- Rafiki is a wise old friend of Simba in the Lion King. In Kiswhaili rafiki means friend.
Lesson number one while in tourist areas like Lamu: the second someone greets you as “my friend!” or rafiki yangu! you can safely bet that they are trying to somehow con you. For example “My friend, the boat has left, but we can go in my speedboat – only 700 shillings”. Rafiki yangu, mashua imeondoka, lakini tunaweza kwenda kwa speedboat yangu – mia saba shilingi.
Mind you the normal boat from the island town of Lamu to the buses on the mainland is 50 shillings (so 70 cents or ten dollars – your choice).
They almost got me with this one today as I left Lamu. As I walked up to the jetty - right on time too - one of “my friends” asked where I was going and let me know that all the boats had left. There was no way to get to the bus except by his boat. I was surprised to hear that the boats would have all left early so I continued to walk out to the edge of the jetty before even thinking about his offer. Sure enough there was one of the normal boats only a quarter full, still waiting for more passengers. Watch out for those guys…
Simba – Simba is the main character of the story. Simba in Kiswahili means lion.
If you need to say, for instance: “Let’s go now! The lion is coming!” You can say:
Twende sasa! Simba unakuja!
-enda is the root of the verb “go” and kwenda is the infinitive form. To say “we are going”, you say tunakwenda. But to say “we go” you can shorten it to twende.
Kuja is infinitive form of “to come”. If the lion is coming, you say unakuja.
Safari – Safari is a trip or a journey. It is similar to the verb “to travel” which is kusafiri.
To say for instance, “we returned from our journey, but the hippo nearly made us lunch!” you say: Tumerudi safari, lakini kiboko karibu na unatufanya chakula cha mchana!
Kiboko is a hippo and they are very aggressive if you get between them and water. Chakula is food, and Chakula cha mchana is food of the afternoon.
Hakuna Matata- There’s no problem. If memory serves me well there is a song in the Lion King called Hakuna Matata (back me up on this one Cliff).
The phrase is commonly used to calm someone down when there is a big problem. As in “Only the axel of the bus is broken, no problem!” Axel kwa basi imevunjinka tu. Hakuna matata!
Kuna is “to have” and Ha- is a prefix indicating the negative. And matata is a problem. So “it doesn’t have a problem” – hakuna matata.
Rafiki- Rafiki is a wise old friend of Simba in the Lion King. In Kiswhaili rafiki means friend.
Lesson number one while in tourist areas like Lamu: the second someone greets you as “my friend!” or rafiki yangu! you can safely bet that they are trying to somehow con you. For example “My friend, the boat has left, but we can go in my speedboat – only 700 shillings”. Rafiki yangu, mashua imeondoka, lakini tunaweza kwenda kwa speedboat yangu – mia saba shilingi.
Mind you the normal boat from the island town of Lamu to the buses on the mainland is 50 shillings (so 70 cents or ten dollars – your choice).
They almost got me with this one today as I left Lamu. As I walked up to the jetty - right on time too - one of “my friends” asked where I was going and let me know that all the boats had left. There was no way to get to the bus except by his boat. I was surprised to hear that the boats would have all left early so I continued to walk out to the edge of the jetty before even thinking about his offer. Sure enough there was one of the normal boats only a quarter full, still waiting for more passengers. Watch out for those guys…
Thursday, October 12, 2006
Riddle Number Two: Synchronization of two generators
BEWARE: This one is a toughy (unfortunately this one we haven't figured out) and requires a bit of basic electrical engineering! For those that are not interested in reading a bunch of technical mumbo jumbo I've interspersed pictures of Mpeketoni scenes for you instead.
Since the big 150 kVA generator went down we have not had enough capacity to meet the load during the day and night. However, the overhaul was completed on the second small generator so we now have two operating gensets – one rated at 60 kVA and the other rated to 57 kVA. Unfortunately having two small gensets doesn’t allow us to meet more demand unless the two generators can be run in parallel.
To run two or more generators in parallel, you must first synchronize the generators so that they are operating at the same voltage, at the same frequency, and are both producing power in phase. If these conditions are not met one generator will act as a load for the other one and cause all sorts of problems, so it is very important that the process is done right.
The generators produce AC power on three separate lines or phases, here they call it the Red phase, the Yellow phase, and the Blue phase. Each phase has a similar sinusoidal pattern to the voltage and current, but the phase of the pattern is shifted by 120 degrees between the three phases.
The synchronization process ensures that the AC pattern on the Red phase of Gen1 is in phase with the Red phase of Gen2. If they are in phase then both the Yellow and Blue phases will be in phase between the generators.
MEP has a synchronization panel that is used to synchronize the generators. The main components of the panel are three switches: one switch for each generator and one for the load. If all switches are closed then the Red phase of Gen1 is electrically connected to the Red phase of Gen2 and the Red phase of the load. However, the switches for the two generators include a safety feature that doesn’t allow the switch to be closed if there is a large voltage difference across the switch.
To synchronize the generators the panel has three dials to help with synchronization. The first is a frequency meter for each generator (f). The setting on the governor of each generator is adjusted until the frequency (or rotational speed of the engine) is exactly the same as the other generator (f1=f2). The next dial indicates the voltage of each generator (V). The voltage is controlled by an accessory called the AVR or Automatic Voltage Regulator on each generator. You next adjust a setting on each generator’s AVR until the voltage on each generator is exactly the same (V1 = V2). The last dial is called the zero voltage dial. The dial indicates the voltage difference between the Red phase of each generator (V0). Only when the frequency and voltage of the two generators is the same and the lines are in phase will the zero voltage dial drop to zero (in phase only if V0 = 0).
Once the zero voltage dial drops to zero, you can close the switches between the generators (S1 and S2). The generators are now synchronized. When the load switch is open and the generators are synchronized, there should be no current flow on any of the lines (i1=i2=0).
If everything goes okay with the synchronization, you can now close the load switch (SL) and start providing power with the two generators (now i1 and i2 are set by the load). Even if you only use one generator at a time, you still use this same panel, you just leave the switch open to the generator that will not be in use. At this time we can use either generator on its own to run the load, so we know all of the switches and circuitry are in order.
Here is the problem. We are able to match the frequency and the voltages between the generators and when the zero voltage dial drops to zero we are able to close both generator switches (S1 and S2). However, when we close the switches the current meters in each phase on both generators quickly climb to very high currents even when the load switch is still open. The frequencies remain equal and the zero voltage dial (V0) remains stable showing zero volts. After about 30 seconds or so the generators trip off and stop producing current. As soon as they trip off the synchronizing panel opens the two generator switches as they loose synchronization.
Normally with one generator, when you engage the load the currents quickly climb and you hear the diesel engine suddenly change sounds as it struggles to meet the new high load. However, when we close the two generator switches in the synchronization process and the currents quickly climb we do not hear the diesel engine change noises; it sounds as through the engines remain idling even with extremely high currents.
Since the line-to-line voltage is positive and the line currents are positive, the generator apparent power (kVA) is very large. However, since there is no load and we do not hear the diesel engine sound change we can infer that the real power (kW) is close to zero. The power factor is the ratio of the real power to the apparent power (kW/kVA), which in this case is zero. A zero power factor indicates the currents are 90 degrees out of phase with the line voltages and that all of the apparent power is made up of what is called reactive power (kVAR). I’m guessing that since there are only the two generators connected to each other and no other equipment, the reactive power is due to one generator acting as a purely inductive load to the other generator. In other words one generator is producing kVARs and the other is consuming kVARs.
The question is why are they acting that way and how do we stop it? Unfortunately, the synchronizing panel doesn’t have any documentation or instructions and none of the current staff was around when the panel was first installed. At least one of the staff was around when they were still using the panel just over a year ago, so we are positive that it worked with these generators before one of them was taken off line for a major overhaul (which included rewinding the stator of the generator).
The only clues we were able to find are from past letters filed away in the MEP records. The first one is from the commissioning of the panel in 1998. The letter indicates that the panel was installed and appears to be working, but that it cannot be used to run the generators in parallel because of high “inter-circulating currents”. They blame these currents on differences in excitation of the rotors. The excitation can be adjusted by changing the “voltage droop” setting on the Automatic Voltage Regulator (AVR) which controls the excitation through a “droop current transformer” or droop CT. Adjusting the voltage droop allows you to minimize the inter-circulating currents. The letter goes on to state that the droop CTs were not installed so these currents could not be minimized until they are installed.
A second letter from 2000 indicates that the droop CTs were installed and the synchronization of the generators was successful. The installers trained the MEP technician on the synchronization process and passed along copies of the documentation to the technician. Unfortunately the technician mentioned in the letter is long gone and it is likely that when he left, the documentation left too.
So we found the voltage droop setting on the AVR, but adjusting the dials while the two gensets are synchronized has no visible effect on the magnitude of the circulating currents. We are not sure what a droop circuit transformer is or where it might be located, so we are not even sure that they are still installed.
So now what? We seem to be very close to having the problem solved, which would allow us to stop rationing power and continue normal operations, but we’re stuck. What is it that is causing these inter-circulating currents and how do we go about getting rid of them? How can we tell if the voltage droop settings are correct, or if changing the dial has any effect on the excitation of the rotor? Any ideas out there? See, I warned you this would be a tough one.
Evening in Mpeketoni town
Since the big 150 kVA generator went down we have not had enough capacity to meet the load during the day and night. However, the overhaul was completed on the second small generator so we now have two operating gensets – one rated at 60 kVA and the other rated to 57 kVA. Unfortunately having two small gensets doesn’t allow us to meet more demand unless the two generators can be run in parallel.
To run two or more generators in parallel, you must first synchronize the generators so that they are operating at the same voltage, at the same frequency, and are both producing power in phase. If these conditions are not met one generator will act as a load for the other one and cause all sorts of problems, so it is very important that the process is done right.
The generators produce AC power on three separate lines or phases, here they call it the Red phase, the Yellow phase, and the Blue phase. Each phase has a similar sinusoidal pattern to the voltage and current, but the phase of the pattern is shifted by 120 degrees between the three phases.
The synchronization process ensures that the AC pattern on the Red phase of Gen1 is in phase with the Red phase of Gen2. If they are in phase then both the Yellow and Blue phases will be in phase between the generators.
MEP has a synchronization panel that is used to synchronize the generators. The main components of the panel are three switches: one switch for each generator and one for the load. If all switches are closed then the Red phase of Gen1 is electrically connected to the Red phase of Gen2 and the Red phase of the load. However, the switches for the two generators include a safety feature that doesn’t allow the switch to be closed if there is a large voltage difference across the switch.
To synchronize the generators the panel has three dials to help with synchronization. The first is a frequency meter for each generator (f). The setting on the governor of each generator is adjusted until the frequency (or rotational speed of the engine) is exactly the same as the other generator (f1=f2). The next dial indicates the voltage of each generator (V). The voltage is controlled by an accessory called the AVR or Automatic Voltage Regulator on each generator. You next adjust a setting on each generator’s AVR until the voltage on each generator is exactly the same (V1 = V2). The last dial is called the zero voltage dial. The dial indicates the voltage difference between the Red phase of each generator (V0). Only when the frequency and voltage of the two generators is the same and the lines are in phase will the zero voltage dial drop to zero (in phase only if V0 = 0).
Wiring diagram for synchronization process
Once the zero voltage dial drops to zero, you can close the switches between the generators (S1 and S2). The generators are now synchronized. When the load switch is open and the generators are synchronized, there should be no current flow on any of the lines (i1=i2=0).
If everything goes okay with the synchronization, you can now close the load switch (SL) and start providing power with the two generators (now i1 and i2 are set by the load). Even if you only use one generator at a time, you still use this same panel, you just leave the switch open to the generator that will not be in use. At this time we can use either generator on its own to run the load, so we know all of the switches and circuitry are in order.
Phanuel Mwaimbe, the manager of MEP
Here is the problem. We are able to match the frequency and the voltages between the generators and when the zero voltage dial drops to zero we are able to close both generator switches (S1 and S2). However, when we close the switches the current meters in each phase on both generators quickly climb to very high currents even when the load switch is still open. The frequencies remain equal and the zero voltage dial (V0) remains stable showing zero volts. After about 30 seconds or so the generators trip off and stop producing current. As soon as they trip off the synchronizing panel opens the two generator switches as they loose synchronization.
Normally with one generator, when you engage the load the currents quickly climb and you hear the diesel engine suddenly change sounds as it struggles to meet the new high load. However, when we close the two generator switches in the synchronization process and the currents quickly climb we do not hear the diesel engine change noises; it sounds as through the engines remain idling even with extremely high currents.
Young girl enjoying an evening in Mpeketoni
Since the line-to-line voltage is positive and the line currents are positive, the generator apparent power (kVA) is very large. However, since there is no load and we do not hear the diesel engine sound change we can infer that the real power (kW) is close to zero. The power factor is the ratio of the real power to the apparent power (kW/kVA), which in this case is zero. A zero power factor indicates the currents are 90 degrees out of phase with the line voltages and that all of the apparent power is made up of what is called reactive power (kVAR). I’m guessing that since there are only the two generators connected to each other and no other equipment, the reactive power is due to one generator acting as a purely inductive load to the other generator. In other words one generator is producing kVARs and the other is consuming kVARs.
Kulia, one of the MEP casual workers, installing a new section of three phase line
The question is why are they acting that way and how do we stop it? Unfortunately, the synchronizing panel doesn’t have any documentation or instructions and none of the current staff was around when the panel was first installed. At least one of the staff was around when they were still using the panel just over a year ago, so we are positive that it worked with these generators before one of them was taken off line for a major overhaul (which included rewinding the stator of the generator).
The only clues we were able to find are from past letters filed away in the MEP records. The first one is from the commissioning of the panel in 1998. The letter indicates that the panel was installed and appears to be working, but that it cannot be used to run the generators in parallel because of high “inter-circulating currents”. They blame these currents on differences in excitation of the rotors. The excitation can be adjusted by changing the “voltage droop” setting on the Automatic Voltage Regulator (AVR) which controls the excitation through a “droop current transformer” or droop CT. Adjusting the voltage droop allows you to minimize the inter-circulating currents. The letter goes on to state that the droop CTs were not installed so these currents could not be minimized until they are installed.
A second letter from 2000 indicates that the droop CTs were installed and the synchronization of the generators was successful. The installers trained the MEP technician on the synchronization process and passed along copies of the documentation to the technician. Unfortunately the technician mentioned in the letter is long gone and it is likely that when he left, the documentation left too.
So we found the voltage droop setting on the AVR, but adjusting the dials while the two gensets are synchronized has no visible effect on the magnitude of the circulating currents. We are not sure what a droop circuit transformer is or where it might be located, so we are not even sure that they are still installed.
So now what? We seem to be very close to having the problem solved, which would allow us to stop rationing power and continue normal operations, but we’re stuck. What is it that is causing these inter-circulating currents and how do we go about getting rid of them? How can we tell if the voltage droop settings are correct, or if changing the dial has any effect on the excitation of the rotor? Any ideas out there? See, I warned you this would be a tough one.
Our answer to the Warm-Up Generator Riddler:
Thanks for all the good ideas and information on the generator! Isolating it to a problem in the diesel engine and not somewhere else was the first challenge – we couldn’t tell where the noise was coming from. The fact that there was back smoke and that the frequency fell off should have been our first clues to go right to the engine.
So after some scratching of heads we too decided that it was something wrong with the combustion. We checked the air filter and saw nothing major, so we next switched to inspecting the fuel system.
The engine runs from an 80L fuel tank that sits above the engine next to the control panel. The fuel leaves the tank from a small port on the bottom of the face of the tank and goes to a low-pressure fuel pump. From the low pressure pump it goes through a fuel filter, the governor system, and into the high-pressure pump before going into the injectors.
Next to the port on the fuel tank is a drain plug that you are supposed to use once a week to drain the diesel sludge that settles at the bottom of the tank. It turns out the sludge had not been drained in the past FIVE years to anyone’s knowledge. I think we found the root of our problem. The small filter on the low-pressure pump was coated with a thick layer of grit and junk. We took the whole fuel tank off and washed it out, we replaced the fuel filter, and cleaned all the lines as best we could.
After clearing all the air out of the fuel lines we started it up again and it has continued to run fine. So the answer to this one is that sludge in the bottom of the fuel tank was clogging up the fuel system.
Such a simple problem could be solved with good maintenance practices, but it has been difficult for a technician to know what good practices are when they come and go every few years. The only way to learn that the maintenance is insufficient is to run into these problems and then try to sort out the shortcomings of the current maintenance regime. The lesson from this experience is that the breakdown and repairs need to be well documented and the maintenance schedule should be written down and refined according to the performance of the generators - but lots of prayers and banging on the generator with large objects seems to go a long way too!
So after some scratching of heads we too decided that it was something wrong with the combustion. We checked the air filter and saw nothing major, so we next switched to inspecting the fuel system.
The engine runs from an 80L fuel tank that sits above the engine next to the control panel. The fuel leaves the tank from a small port on the bottom of the face of the tank and goes to a low-pressure fuel pump. From the low pressure pump it goes through a fuel filter, the governor system, and into the high-pressure pump before going into the injectors.
Next to the port on the fuel tank is a drain plug that you are supposed to use once a week to drain the diesel sludge that settles at the bottom of the tank. It turns out the sludge had not been drained in the past FIVE years to anyone’s knowledge. I think we found the root of our problem. The small filter on the low-pressure pump was coated with a thick layer of grit and junk. We took the whole fuel tank off and washed it out, we replaced the fuel filter, and cleaned all the lines as best we could.
After clearing all the air out of the fuel lines we started it up again and it has continued to run fine. So the answer to this one is that sludge in the bottom of the fuel tank was clogging up the fuel system.
Such a simple problem could be solved with good maintenance practices, but it has been difficult for a technician to know what good practices are when they come and go every few years. The only way to learn that the maintenance is insufficient is to run into these problems and then try to sort out the shortcomings of the current maintenance regime. The lesson from this experience is that the breakdown and repairs need to be well documented and the maintenance schedule should be written down and refined according to the performance of the generators - but lots of prayers and banging on the generator with large objects seems to go a long way too!
Tuesday, October 03, 2006
Mzungu! How are you? How are you?
Mpeketoni is treating me very well these days, so well that I dreaded the idea of boarding a bus to make the 18 hour journey back to Nairobi. Lots has been going on and I am starting to feel more and more comfortable in the area. Here is a bit of a recap of the past few weeks.
I have had a few questions regarding the issue of being a white in the middle of a rural African village. And while it has been weird, I have not had any major problems with it – just cultural differences and biases to sort out. I’ll see if I can give you some examples to let you know what it is like.
First off how many other whites are there in the settlement scheme? Well, last count of the Lake Kenyatta Settlement Scheme (which includes all of the smaller towns and 10-acre plots around Mpeketoni) is that there are about 30,000 residents. Of those I have seen two other whites and have heard about two others. Including me, that brings the total up to 5 or about 0.02% of the total population in the area. The other whites, or Mzungu (which actually means European in Swahili, but it is applied liberally) are all male: one Italian priest (one of the few people in the entire area that drives a car), one German solar equipment dealer, one wealthy Dutch donor (he has funded a number of primary schools in the area), and one German development coordinator that used to run the GTZ program. The latter is now in Sudan so his ridiculously huge mansion sits empty all but two or three days out of the year.
Does that mean that I stick out? Yes, a bit. When I walk down the street there is quite often a chorus of kids excitedly yelling, “Mzungu! How are you? How are you?!”
I‘m not sure where they pick up the “how are you” phrase, whether if it is from Mzungu tourists that have come before me or if they are taught it in school, but any child knows it well and isn’t shy about using it.
The bravest ones run up after me and want to shake my hand. Much more rarely the even braver ones hold out their hand and say, in all sincerity, “Give me a ___” where the blank may be ten shillings, a ball, candy, or a soda. Some of the adults skip the little things and ask for my bike or the mobile phone that Naïm lent me.
In comparison to other rural Kenyan villages, Mpeketoni is considered quite cosmopolitan. Most villages in Kenya are dominated by one tribe; there are very few residents that aren’t from that tribe. In Central Province around Nairobi, the tribe that is found most often is the Kikuyu. The Kikuyu are also the largest tribe in Kenya. Closer to the coast and the lower areas you find many Kamba, and on the coast and in villages like Lamu you find the Swahili people.
Mpeketoni was a resettlement scheme started by Mzee Jomo Kenyatta (the first President) who was a Kikuyu. The idea of the resettlement was to move people out of the over-crowded Central region out to uninhabited land on the coast. Mpeketoni today has a large number of Kikuyu, but due to its location on the coast there are also a high number of Swahili, Kamba, and other tribes. I think that since Mpeketoni has so many people of different tribes and is also close to the tourist town of Lamu, me being noticeably different than everyone else isn’t as big of a deal as it could be if I were to be in an older village that is dominated by just one tribe.
So in short, yes I do stick out, but from what I gather people in Mpeketoni are quite hospitable to different people and it should not be a problem.
I’d also like to give you some quick sketches of main people in my life right now. I’ll start with more about Isaac, but later I’ll tell you about Emma – the woman that runs the Havanna guest house, and Paul Mutinda, the MEC secretary.
Isaac
Isaac is the technician from MEC that I am attached to. His role is to make sure I get familiar with how things work in the community and the project and my job is to make sure that he is involved in the work that I am doing so that when I leave he can keep going with some of the work.
But as it goes we are about the same age and have quite compatible personalities so we have become very good friends outside of the work. People tease him of being my bodyguard because we are almost always seen together around town.
Isaac is a fantastic storyteller and whenever there isn’t something more pressing to discuss he often spontaneously launches into stories about growing up in Mpeketoni.
Isaac is the youngest of his siblings. In fact there is an extraordinary difference between his age and the age of his eldest sister. A few days back we ran into someone in town that he introduced as his nephew, Martin. Martin was just a year younger than me, which made him about three years younger than Isaac. I had met Isaacs’s two older brothers and knew that he had a sister in the area, so out of curiosity I asked Martin which sibling of Isaac’s was his parent. Well Martin needed to clarify, in reality it wasn’t that one of Isaac’ siblings was his parent, it was that one of Isaacs siblings was his grandma. You follow me? Isaac and Martin are only three years or so apart in age but Isaac and Martin’s grandma are of the same father. It turns out that Isaac has a half sister that was born in the 1920’s. That also means that Isaacs’s dad was already in his 60’s when Isaac was born.
Isaac recently finished a diploma in Electrical Engineering from a technical college near Nairobi. He wasn’t always on track to go off to get a technical degree – in fact he didn’t graduate from secondary school until he was already well into his 20’s. In primary school he often skipped classes for various reasons. One year the American military was training the Kenyan army in the area so he spent his days following the American tanks and marching soldiers (and yes he did shout Mzungu! How are you? And received chocolates and trinkets in return). Another year the teacher was very strict and caned him for missing class, so instead of returning to class he would find a tree along the way to school to sit in all day until the kids started to return home. He would do a few math problems in the tree to make it seem like he was still going to school when he would get home.
Later he turned to taking his favorite dog out to the bush to hunt Dik Dik’s, a very small antelope, instead of going to class. Even after he decided that he wanted to be an electrical technician and that he needed to get his act together he still got into all sorts of trouble. In secondary school he was almost expelled for instigating a riot. He helped lead a student protest against the school because they couldn’t wear “civilians” (causal clothes) on the weekends at the boarding school. Somewhere in the protest they decided to try to burn down the administration block. They didn’t get the admin building but they did get a small kiosk that sold the students things like school supplies and sodas.
Isaac is like most people that I’ve met in Mpeketoni in that he is already married and has a child and that even though he works full time at MEC he has two or three other sources of income. One of them of course is farming the shambas. Nearly everyone that is in Mpeketoni is here because they have a 10-acre plot of some portion of one out in the shambas that they farm. He also is an electrician around town on his own time. Some nights he leaves MEC at 6:30 or 7pm only to head to someone’s new house or business to install electrical wiring. There was even one day that he had left MEC in the evening, went to a job that had a deadline and worked until morning only to return to MEC at 8am.
Another trait of Isaac that I have heard is common in Kenya is that he very much dislikes being alone. He is always with someone and hates the idea of eating by himself. At lunch he usually bikes 2km out to his house to spend it with his wife, Beth, their daughter Susan, and any of his brothers family that might be around.
Beth is quite shy, but a very gracious host. Of the three times I’ve met her, she has always sent me off with a full stomach. Their daughter is a big fan of shaking my hand and either refers to me as Isaac’s Muzugu or Uncle Andrew.
I’m sure I’ll have more to tell you about Isaac later, but that’s all I can think up right now.
Generator Riddlers:
So a week after I got to Mpeketoni the large 150kVA generator broke down. That left only the 60kVA generator to carry the load. Unfortunately the load during the day is always more than the generator can handle, so the technicians are forced to ration power – sort of rolling blackouts in different areas throughout the day. In the US, rolling blackouts can occur when there is a shortage of capacity – all it requires is for a technician to flip a switch and they can disconnect and reconnect whole neighborhoods. In Mpeketoni a rolling blackout isn’t so easy to execute.
Three times a day the technicians shut off the generators and head out to the town with their climbing gear. One technician climbs up a utility pole and disconnects jumpers that conduct electricity around the pole. After disconnecting the four lines they climb back down and head to the next pole. The whole process takes about 45 minutes each time.
Needless to say it would be god to get the generators all up and running again and any problems with the one generator that is running means total blackout until it gets fixed.
I know there are a few highly qualified mechanics and a few people that took Alex Farrell’s Electric Power Systems class with me out there reading this. So what I’d like to propose is that I fill you in on as many details as I can about these generators and you guys tell me what we’re doing wrong. As issues come up I can post them to this blog and you all can help us out. And if we can’t get it figured out over the Internet, you’ll just have to come out here in person and bail us out. It’s an open invitation.
Generator Riddler #1: A warm up
Okay, so I think we have this one figured out, but I’ll put it out there as a warm-up to see if this can work at all.
Isaac and I went to Lamu in mid-September for a night. When we came back we found that the generator had been running for only a few hours total in the past few days. There was a problem with the 60kVA where it would run fine for an hour or two then quit.
Diesel generators run at a constant speed – these ones are considered high speed gensets because they run at 1500 rpm (1500 rpm with a four pole generator produces electricity at 50Hz). The rotational speed of the generator is indicated by a frequency dial on the control panel. The range on the dial is only from 45 to 55Hz because there is very little variation in frequency during normal operation. The disel generator spins a rotor inside the electrical generator to produce three phase current at a constant voltage of 415 V (line to line). As more people demand more power the currents on each of the lines increase and the diesel engine has to work harder to keep at the same speed. The current that the electrical generator can handle is the limiting factor on how much power can be produced. In normal operation, if the line currents get too high the control equipment automatically drops the load and stops producing any current.
So here is the problem. After running for an hour or so the generator would start to make a randomly pulsating rumbling sort of noise. The noise would come and go for a few seconds and one of the technicians mentioned seeing the exhaust turn black when the noise was being produced. After a few seconds of that noise the frequency dial would start to drop much more than normal – it would drop by 2-3 Hz and sometimes recover. But always within 30-45 seconds of the first noise the frequency would completely fall off and the control equipment would drop the load. Once the load was dropped the generator speed would go back to normal. The line currents were never near the limit of what the electrical generator could handle.
The technicians, not knowing what was going on would turn off the machine to inspect it. Unable to find anything they would start it up again after an hour or so and it would run fine for another hour before the same problem would occur. Not wanting to press their luck they would leave the genset off for the rest of the day if the problem occurred two or three times. This went on for about four days until we figured out the problem. Any thoughts out there on what the problem was?
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)