As I start this piece, I am on the outside terrace of a 6^th floor building in Addis, watching all the traffic whipping in and out around the construction going on below.

All the vehicles I see on the street are powered by petrochemicals.  Yes, even the electric vehicles, if there are any in Addis, as that is more a first-world gimmick.  These gas or diesel engines take in the air we breathe and add a bit of fuel to it, compresses the crap out of it and ignite it.  What takes place is an explosion that is transferred into a mechanical means to move the vehicle.

This topic started when I watched the tragic explosion that took place a few days ago in the great State of Texas.  My sympathies and prayers go out to those good people, especially the first responders who perished.  It reminds me of the many medical personnel and firefighters who perished because of the heinous act of 911.  I know, some of you may say, Come on Dwaine, that was a decade ago.  Doesn’t matter.  It was on American soil by terrorists, who to this day want us dead.  But as I say sometimes, I digress.

Now, Science.

I’ve always had a love of Science and enjoy asking the younger generation questions about it.  One of my favorite questions to ask them is:  What is the speed of light?

When I heard the tragic news of the enormous tragic explosion near Waco, I was reminded of the explosion we had of a chemical plant in the Texas Panhandle many years ago.  This was a plant that took butane, compressed it, then heated it to produce Nylon, Rayon and many other chemicals in use by the world.

One Saturday afternoon, my four kids were watching the old classic, Wizard of Oz.  At the breath-taking point where Dorothy and Toto are heading for the cellar with the terrible tornado bearing down on them, she runs to the cellar door, kicking on it yelling, Auntie Em, Auntie Em!!  The scene is exciting and my kids were on edge, when suddenly, our house shook!  The aluminum panel on the back storm door suddenly blew in.  My kids who were lying down on the floor, suddenly raised up and looked at me as if I would know what happened.  It seemed that the house was about to be lifted up by a terrible tornado!

I tried to remain calm and cool and told them, It’s okay, no problem.  Then casually went to the back door with its panel hanging inside the kitchen and looked out.  I could see smoke in a distance toward the plant where I worked.  But it was also in the direction of a large chemical plant.

There was a rising plume of smoke that resembled the explosive blasts that I would see in later years in Afghanistan.  There was something terribly wrong.  In minutes, the radio started broadcasting that an explosion took place at the chemical plant.

To this day, I am not sure of the actual sequence of the explosion, but I understood the plant had a high pressure steam line that ruptured, which in turn caused the high pressure, super heated butane line to rupture.  Reports were, there were two explosions.  The first was the steam line, and the second was the butane igniting.

The time span between the two explosions is what determined how massive the second was.  Because the longer the gas had time escape, the larger the cloud was forming, until something ignited it.  Maybe a boiler or water heater, no one would ever be able to determine.

As in many tragedies, human lives were lost.  Only three, but still a massive tragedy, as if the number lost determines that.

As I would learn later, vehicles on the highway nearby had windshields blown out.  In town, businesses had their front picture windows broken, some forcefully.  I determined my house was eight miles by crow flight, and the blast was able to push in the panel on my back door.  To pardon the expression, One hell of a blast.  And yet, the blast that took place at the fertilizer plant near Waco, was enormous compared to what I experienced many years ago.

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My interest in Science, enveloped chemistry among others.  I had always wanted to make nitroglycerin, but in my research I found out you have to boil it.  That just didn’t sound safe to me.  I did have a friend who made it and tested it on his dog’s house.  Last I heard, his father took his chemistry set away.

In the many years that progressed, I also learned to create true gunpowder.  It consisted of Potassium Nitrate (commonly called Saltpeter), charcoal and sulfur.  I would find the saltpeter and sulfur at one of the local pharmacies.  Mixed together with charcoal acquired from BBQ briquettes should form gunpowder, but mine just flared up like a highway flare.

In my youth, one of my older brothers, perhaps the orneriest one, taught me how to make Nitrogen Tri-iodide, (NI₃)  A contact explosive.  It is created by mixing two very common ingredients found in most homes.

The chemical is harmless until it dries, then becomes very sensitive to touch.  Over the following years I took advantage of this secret, by placing it in areas that would equal my orneriness.  For instance, under the commode seats at school.  It was not harmful unless it was actually touched by a human hand.  But it makes a very loud bang.  I even placed it in a pencil sharpener.  It is extremely corrosive, as most explosives are, so the pencil sharpener was pretty much useless afterwards.

Over the years, I imparted this wisdom to those younger than me, but avoided telling it to my own children.  But I did give the secret to my stepdaughter knowing she would not use it, or I don’t think she did.

When I was a welder at a manufacturing plant, I worked with an individual who insisted on placing his lunch box right in the middle of the small table where we ate our lunch, making it difficult for everyone else to eat.  So, one morning, when he was in the locker room changing clothes, I placed some of the contact explosive on the latches of his lunch box.

He did not know what caused the little bangs that left blisters on his thumbs, but he knew I had something to do with it.

In my younger years, a buddy and I found where the local telephone company threw away their old batteries.  This was before the strict regulations came about on waste management.  I collected many batteries this way which still had some juice in them, and used them in experiments.  These were large batteries that had several different voltages on them.  It was an amazing find!

One of the things I used them for, was electrolysis.  I found I could run an electric current through certain liquids and extract various gasses out of them.  I come from a family of nine kids, so everything was bought in bulk when possible.  This included laundry detergent.  I happen to notice the big bag of soap had phosphorous in its makeup.  Now I had read a lot about phosphorus and thought it would be cool to get some.  So, I took some of the soap, added water and placed it in a bowl with the two electrodes connected to one of the big phone company batteries.

I left for awhile and when I returned, there was this large black mass of suds forming out of the bowl like some science fiction movie.  I thought, Cool!!

Now, here is where I went wrong.  For some reason, I picked up a match and lit it and stuck it in the bubbly mess.  What took place is a very loud bang, and shot black foamy stuff all over my bedroom walls.  Giving myself a few minutes to let the ringing in my ears die away, I realized the bubbles were comprised of hydrogen and oxygen.  But alas, no phosphorus that I could see.  I quickly cleaned up the mess and no one in the family was wiser. … I think.

Chemistry is an amazing thing, and when it goes awry, it is deadly.  When it is controlled properly, the world moves with it.

By the way, the speed of light, commonly referred to as “C”, is 186,282 miles per second.  Or for you metric people, it’s 300,000 kilometers per second.

Don’t forget that.  You never know when I’m going to come up and ask you the value of “C”.

Here in Addis Ababa, Ethiopia, the weather is always perfect according to our standards.  During the rainy season, it’s just like Spring back in the States with the storms and soft rain, and in the dry season, it’s like Summer.  That’s all they have here, Spring and Summer.

But I note, that this time of year back in my home state of Texas, the storm season is coming up.  This has always brought up exciting memories of my youth.

My dad was from Iowa, which must have had their share of bad storms.  So, in the stormy Springs of the Texas Panhandle, Pop took the season seriously.  Somewhere he obtained a tornado warning alarm that he placed on an ancient bookcase in the living room, and instructed us kids:  If this thing ever goes off, run, do not walk to the cellar!  As I aged and became aware of electronics, I realized it was a device that monitored barometric pressure.  It was simply a barometer that had an electrical contact on the little needle that set off a loud buzzer.  It was a device that did not detect the possibility of a tornado, but detected an actual tornado overhead!  He was right.  If that thing had gone off, there was very little time to even run.

In those years, we would watch the clouds overhead as they rolled and boiled with anger.  The cellar was always a short jaunt, ready for us to dive into.  It was exciting as a young kid to stand outside with Pop, expecting the fury of Mother Nature to descend on us.

In later years, I worked as a Maintenance Electrician at a manufacturing plant.  One task that was given me, was to repair the tornado warning system installed at the plant.  I replaced parts and got the thing working.  Once a week during the storm season, I would set the thing off at noon on every Friday to test it, and to get people used to expecting it.

One hot, humid June day, when you could feel evil in the air, a tornado touched down less than a mile from the plant.  It cut through several electrical lines that fed the plant, killing machines, lights and power.  I became ecstatic!  After setting the system off each week as a test, I could actually set the thing off on a real live warning!!

I ran hard to the First Aid Station where there was a trigger to set it off, and groped along the wall in the darkness and found the switch.  And threw it.

Silence.  Nothing.  Nada.  Zilch.   (There was no power)

Dear Reader, I cannot fully express to you the big Disappointment (with a capital “D”) I had at that moment.  I trudged back outside with shoulders down to my knees, and walked, not ran, to the Main Gate to watch the dangerous clouds that I could not warn others of.  The plant manager we had at the time was standing there also.  This gentleman was from one of those states up North where they have no tornadoes, and he was a little scared to say the least.

But he seemed relieved at the time as he commented that the tornado has gone and is all okay.  I made the mistake of telling him, that if conditions were ripe for one tornado, they were ripe for many; and don’t just look to the Southwest where they usually came from, but also overhead.

It was at this time, the ol’ boy had a look of panic I’ve not seen on a human face.  He turned white as a piece of chalk and looked up as if he was expecting lightning to rain down on him.  He ran, not walked, back to the building.  Where he went inside, I do not know, but the next day he Demanded, (with a capital “D”), that we add a battery backup to the warning system.  My boss who had lived in the Texas Panhandle all his life, pretty much ignored his Demand because what happened that day, may take place once every few decades.

Several years ago, my wife who is from the great state of New York, took me up North to see Niagara Falls.  As we stood there, with the thundering noise and the mist in the air, I closed my eyes and was reminded of a tornado.  Those of you who have experienced a tornado up close, can relate to it.  There is a thundering sound and vibration you feel in your stomach like when a train passes by closely, as the moist air whips around you.

I do miss the dangerous winds, lethal lightning and horizontal rain of the Texas Panhandle.  As a close friend of mine who has the same passion I have for storms once commented, We can only hope for the worst.

To those if you in the Texas Panhandle, enjoy Mother Nature in her anger.  For it is a wondrous sight to behold!

 

There is another posting under the “one sided conversations with the damn cat” under Page One on the left.

The other day we were eating at the Italian restaurant on the hill.  This was after the bull incident and Hiwot wanted to know what happened to Terese’s foot.  She’s wearing a big black boot to keep her foot from flexing so it will heal.   Also, the damn cat hates the boot, but I digress.

Terese explained the incident and Hiwot told her, that the young child of a friend of hers was also a victim of the bull.  Luckily, the little one is doing okay.

But Hiwot said she heard that an Embassy guard said a Nice White with short hair had been hurt by the bull.  At the time, Hiwot wondered if it was her Nice White with short hair, but forgot about it until we came in, and she realized it was.

Terese was pleased to note that the locals refer to her as a Nice White.  I’m afraid to ask Hiwot what they call me.

We were on the hill eating last night.  Afterwards, she came to our table to remove the plates.  She caught me off guard, so I had to quickly put my napkin on my shoulder (to maintain the sanctity of the napkin on the shoulder rule) and in the process it partly ended up on my head.  She laughed and said, I am already here!  But we are making progress because she let me keep my napkin.

Terese got to talking to Hiwot about her schooling.  She has yet to deliver a baby which she will have to do before graduating.  It’s humorous to watch her expressions when she talks about it, covering her eyes as if it’s happening now.  But I find it interesting and beautiful when she says that when she studies the Maternity class, she has a “special place in my mind” for her mother because she now knows what she went through for her.

Not so her father.  She doesn’t see him doing any of the work.  Evidently, he left her mother and started a family of his own many years ago.  We politely asked how much her schooling is and she said, it’s 400 birr a month (about $22) and her apartment is 700 (about $39).  She makes 700 for her salary at the restaurant and depends on her tips to pay for her school.  She is 21 years old and is very proud of her ability to support herself and pay for schooling also.  You can see the satisfaction and confidence in her face.

… and kids back in the States throw a hissy fit when they don’t get the newest iPhone.

 

…  from World War II.  Look under the title: America (with a C) on the left side.