Memoirs of a Worker

When Things Get Hot

Here's one that I thought was really interesting and it shows a little more of some of my actual work.

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I spent a lot of time in Addis Ababa, Ethiopia at the US Embassy doing remodel work and installing security systems. When you go to places like that and work for extended periods you get to know the people you work for and build some strong friendships, at the embassy and at local establishments.

For instance, when I was standing in the check-in line at the local Hilton Hotel, the manager came out from the back room with a group of people. When he looked up and saw me, he removed himself from the people he was with, walked over and greeted me with a warm smile, an outreached hand and said, “Welcome home, Mr. Benson. It’s wonderful to have you back.”

Keith was one of the members of my crew in Addis Ababa, and Keith was handy with just about anything. If you remember the television show MacGyver, then you would know Keith.

“Hey Lloyd, I found an old water heater and wondered if I can have it.”

I gave him a puzzled look, but before I could say anything he continued.

“I’ve already checked with maintenance and they’re fine with it.”

The next day Keith informed the crew members that he was barbequing at lunch time and he was providing the meat. Later that morning I stopped at the commissary and picked up a few things to go along with the meal.

At noon I saw the greatest barbequer ever, made out of an old hot water heater. During our meal several of the embassy staff asked if they could join us. Keith announced that he would barbeque every Friday, and man oh man did we start having some scrumptious feasts. The embassy people all contributed and it was a very enjoyable time.

One Friday I helped Keith prepare for the meal by marinating the chicken. Keith told me he had a new special recipe he wanted to try.  Around 11:30, the fire had calmed down to hot coals and we laid four chicken halves out on the grill.

We heard a loud shrill cry and turned around to see a huge eagle with at least a six foot wingspan coming right at us. His legs were outstretched, talons wide open and flexing and we dropped to the ground. His beak was bright yellow and open and he was so close I could even see the pupils in his eyes! We felt the wind from his wings as he swooped over us. We thought we were goners. Just before his talons snagged us, he turned and snatched two chicken halves off the grill and flew away.

Just so you are aware, when an eagle steals your food, it has the tendency to make a person become irritated. We learned several things over that incident; eagles like marinated chicken, stand your ground, and when barbequing in Addis, always stay on the lookout for feathered thieves.

One of the officers at the embassy was Mike, an Air Force colonel. I enjoyed Mike’s company and we had a few things in common. When he found out that I was from Idaho he started visiting with me almost every day. He told me he used to spend his summers at his uncle’s farm in Ashton, Idaho. Mike loved to fish and would relive lots of his fishing adventures on the Henry’s Fork of the Snake River with me.

One day Mike stepped out of his office and said, “Man I’m sleepy.”

He looked like he was covered in sweat. “Are you okay?” I asked.

“I’m fine,” he responded. We had this same conversation every day for over a week. Then one day he came out of his office. “I can’t take it. My room feels like a sauna. Man, Lloyd, I can’t stay awake. Is there anything you can do to help me?”

“You know, in order to help you I have to go in your room.”

“You know I can’t let you in there, it’s a classified area.”

“I do have a top secret clearance you know.”

“Rules are rules. You’re not military so I can’t let you in.”

“Looks to me like you’re going to suffer, Mike. I can’t help you if I don’t know what you’re up against.”

The following week Mike opened his door and stepped out into the hallway. “Lloyd,” He hollered down the hallway. I heard him and stepped into view. When he saw me he motioned for me to join him.

“I can’t take it anymore. Come in but don’t look at anything. I need help.” His clothes were dripping wet and sweat was pouring off of him.

I sat at the chair across from his desk and almost fell asleep myself. The temperature in his office was 120 degrees Fahrenheit. The air felt so thick you could almost cut it with a knife. I felt beads of perspiration bubbling up on my forehead. Mike pointed at some boxes on the floor. “Move that box and put your hand on the floor.” It looked like steam rose when I moved the box and the floor was so hot I couldn’t keep my hand there, and the floor was damp.

“What do you make of it?” Mike said.

I started thinking about the geography we were in and what could cause the problem in Mike’s office. I remembered The Great Rift Valley is quite close to Addis Ababa and in fact the swimming pool at the Hilton Hotel in Addis was built over the top of a thermal feature, so the water in the pool is naturally heated. According to geologist The Great Rift is a continuous geographic trench, approximately 6,000 kilometers (3,700 mi) in length that runs from the northern Jordan Rift Valley in Asia to Mozambique in South Eastern Africa; it is also a moderate seismic area.

“I’m not sure, but I have an off the wall idea and it might just work. In the meantime, I think you better stay out of here. I don’t think it’s safe.”

On the exterior side of Mike’s office I didn’t notice anything unusual. I got a shovel and dug a small hole. When I put my hand in the hole, the ground was considerably warmer than it was on top. I told Keith of my visit to Mike’s office and relayed my thoughts to him of how we might resolve the problem.

“It’s a crazy idea,” Keith said. “But it might work.”

Keith and I went downtown and found a heavy steel pipe that was about six inches in diameter and twelve feet in length. We had the vender cut a sharp point on one end and then we headed back to the embassy.

Outside of Mike’s office we unloaded the pipe. A few of the crew held the pointed end down and steadied the pipe while I stood back to get what I thought was the correct angle, while Keith slammed the opposite end with the bucket of the backhoe. With each thump the pipe pushed into the earth. The pipe became noticeably shorter with each smack of the bucket.

Mike came out and watched the ordeal. “What are you trying to do?”

“We are trying to relive some pressure and cool down your room.”

“What if nothing happens? What if it’s wrong?”

“Then we try something else.”

“Hey Lloyd,” one of the crew members shouted, “The pipe is getting real hot.”

Keith banged on the pipe one more time and then moved the backhoe out of the way. By now the pipe was way too hot to touch. We heard a faint but distinct gurgling sound. Then the sounds started to increase in intensity. It was like the pipe was alive and it sort of vibrated.  

“What do we do now?”

“We wait,” I said.

We didn’t wait long. In just a few minutes, dirt shot out of the pipe like a cannon ball, followed by a very high pitched whistle, like that of a tea pot, and intermittent sprays of hot water. It appeared that a hot spring was doing its best to make a grand appearance right in the middle of Mike’s office.

After the first hour, water stopped spraying out of the pipe, and it was replaced with hot air and steam. The pipe stayed hot and wafts of steam continued to emit from the pipe every day. Apparently the pipe acted like a pressure relief valve. By the next day the temperature in Mike’s office had dropped well over 45 degrees.

“How did you know?” Mike asked the next day.

“Just a hunch,” I said. “Sometimes I get lucky.”

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