By Paul Nwabuikwu Circa 2005. Early evening in London. After initial commitments, some Western nations seemed to be reconsidering the debt deal with Nigeria.
Italy was one such nation. After agreeing to an appointment to discuss the next steps, the country’s finance minister became unreachable. His assistants who had arranged the meeting claimed ignorance of his whereabouts.
Progress seemed impossible. “Do you know where he’s staying?” Okonjo-Iweala asked Edith Jibunoh, my colleague who had been communicating with the Italians. The answer was yes.
“Let’s go there,” Okonjo-Iweala said. Informed that there was no way of knowing if the minister was in the hotel or when he’d arrive, Okonjo-Iweala declared, “We’ll wait for him.” And so, the Finance Minister of Nigeria waited at the hotel’s reception for several hours for her Italian counterpart.
The elusive gentleman finally walked into the lobby late in the evening. He couldn’t hide his shock when Okonjo-Iweala walked up to him with a smile. “Hello, your excellency.
What a pleasure to run into you!” she said to the apologetic Italian. The meeting held, and progress was made. “What kind of person is Madam Ngozi? Who is she, really?” This is a question I am often asked about Ngozi Okonjo-Iweala, who turns 70 today.
I’ve heard it from people of all walks of life, ages, and demographics, especially young people – professionals, undergraduates, secondary school students, and even children. Youths,.
