Just before Nigeria’s finance minister left the Paris Club meeting, she said: “I do not wish that any Nigerian or set of Nigerians will ever come here to face this again.”

I did not realize the power of the Paris Club until I arrived at the headquarters of the French Ministry of Finance and Industry. Located near the Seine River, the building announces its majesty and power by a somewhat strange statement. There is an eerie silence that hangs around it. It is sombre; it is grim. All around it, there is a strange absence of traffic – of [people] and vehicles. Thinking back, the quietude and gloom that grab you as you approach it, reminds of a graveyard. But what is the difference? It may have been a deliberate way to announce its real purport. In the new world order, that building represents a symbolic graveyard, where the Paris Club plays a merciless undertaker. From what I observed about the way its business is done, that building has become the graveyard of many countries, whose profligate, and sometimes natural disadvantages, have put them at the mercy of the Paris Club and such other institutions that preside over international capital and development. Beyond the façade, what this building hides is perhaps the lever that drives the balance of economic power. In one of its wings is the secretariat of the Paris Club, that exclusive gang of creditor nations that undermine the fortunes of many developing countries. As you approach the back gate, two uniformed policemen, and others in plain clothes, usher you into the place. Once inside the foyer of the secretariat, the Club’s real but understated power hits you. The activity inside the building belies the silence outside. All manner of officials – young men and women – schooled in the politics of international capital, disappear into rooms, clutching thick files, in which unmistakably are laid their tracking of our misfortune. They disappear into meetings where the fate of supposedly sovereign nations are considered with all manner of contempt, and [the] least warmth and compassion. The officials whose great grandfathers also sat in rooms in Europe and carved up among themselves distant lands as their possession, carry on in such a confidence that tells you, that they understand their power as creditors, to not only collect debts but to ensure that there remain debtors all over the world. What happens to a country may depend on the mood and judgement of these people.

It is said that the debtor has no dignity. It didn’t make sense until I observed the politics of debt at the Club’s secretariat. I became thoroughly convinced that no matter how big Nigeria thinks it is, it cannot consider itself a sovereign as long as it was still indebted to the Paris Club. The poignancy of Nigeria’s new-fangled drive to exit the Paris Club, was so acute, in my mind that I decided to keep a diary of events. In a subtle kind of way, it contributes to the debate about whether Nigeria had a choice in the matter of whether to pay, or not. And also, when and how to pay.

2:20 p.m. The [Paris] Club president, Mr. Xavier Muscat, marches into the hall. Finance Minister, Ngozi Okonjo-Iweala, who has by now lost her voice, and was tired [from] staying up all night working on Nigeria’s presentation, exchanges pleasantries with other delegates in the waiting lounge, [although] she was barely able to stand. In the expansive waiting room of the Paris Club, we, the Nigerians (usually few maybe because it was not a very [important] occasion), were accosted by Mr. Menachem Katz, the representative of the IMF at the negotiations. He inquired whether we have heard the good news. We said we had not. He pulled out his cellphone and began to read the report, the import of [which was] that the IMF [had] approved the policy support instrument (PSI) on Nigeria’s economic reform programme. The Paris Club had requested IMF endorsement as a condition for debt relief. The endorsement meant that the debt deal would go ahead. “This is good for Nigeria,” he said. [Nigeria’s finance] minister herself, who this time, was seated in [the] hall, knew Nigeria had moved up in terms of rating. From the way some of the delegates milled around her, she was sure even before her presentation that things might be different this time. The last time the Nigerian delegation was in Paris, they were received formally and coldly. She and her colleagues were made to hang around the corridors for many hours before they were allowed in to the meeting. But on this day, she was in the middle of a large number of delegates, people who had all along insisted Nigeria must pay what it owed them.

2:25 p.m. More officials – men, women in grey and black suits file [into] the room. They were waiting to decide whether Nigeria, their long, recalcitrant debtor since 1964, would be allowed to go home, free.

2:40 p.m. The [Paris Club] President claps his hands and announces the commencement of the meeting. We were left at the waiting room like a man whose wife had been wheeled into a labour room.

2:50 p.m. Properly seated opposite an intimidating clan of white people, the [finance] minister opens her files and adjusts herself, ready like a student waiting to defend her thesis. A white man, Xavier Muscat, clears his throat and begins to speak in French. When he ended, Okonjo-Iweala, confidently greets the gathering in French, then switches to English. “What I [would] like to do, is to brief you on the progress made on our economic reform programmes, then the problems, and go on to make our request.” With slides running, she began to roll out a forest of statistics, graphs and projections that showed Nigeria’s progress with the [IMF] economic reform programme.

3:10 p.m. The journalists from Nigeria, in fact the only ones allowed, were asked to leave the room. To underscore the seriousness of the Paris Club, the media does not cover its activities, except [when] it issues statements. On this occasion, we imposed ourselves on them, for we were sure of the politics of debt at home.

3:50 p.m. A delegation marches into the waiting lounge. We guessed [that] they may be from Latin America. We were right. One of them heard us and with a broad smile walked over to announce that they were from [the] Dominican Republic. “You guys are here today?” he asked. “Yes, they are on our case right now,” we told him. “We came here to review the figures with them,” he continued. “We wish you guys luck,” he said [suggesting he was] unsure of what [would] happen. “So do we,” we shot back. With that, the group shuffles to a corner, to listen to a Paris Club official address them informally, some of them with their hands behind their backs.

4:30 p.m. Okonjo-Iweala comes out of the meeting. After the presentation, the [Paris Club] president asked the Nigerian delegation to leave so that they [could] consider Nigeria’s request and begin the negotiations. We gather that the countries from which the minister was expecting trouble, appeared swayed by her lucid presentation. Germany, [the] U.K. and [the] Netherlands asked questions about Nigeria’s commitment to pay, sought assurances that the gains of the relief [would] not be stolen, and [for] plans on how Nigeria will apply the resources to realising the Millennium Development Goals. To our left, the Latin American delegation sat, reviewing their notes. The way they huddled together, you [would] think [they were] a study group in an undergraduate class, working on an assignment. But, in reality, it is the delegation of a sovereign nation, who has come to judgement over debts owed other countries. For those who think it is a fair world, the stay inside the all-marble building tells [us] clearly where the power lies. Forget that heads of governments go to the UN and speak annually, the real power lies with the Paris Club. So you ask: where is the new world order?

4:55 p.m. The minister walks over to chat with us on her presentation and to down some coffee to keep awake. This time you could see she was physically drained.

5:20 p.m. She returns to the technical meeting, downstairs with the rest of the Nigerian delegation, to prepare for the actual negotiations.

8:30 p.m. The Paris Club secretary, speaks to us. He reveals nothing but from his enthusiasm, the prospects looked good. It was from him that we gathered an agreement was afoot. But he made sure he let us know it [would] take a long while. He asked us to return to our rooms, get some sleep and return by 10 a.m. on Wednesday.

9:05 p.m. The waiting room began to fill up again. The delegates who had gone for dinner return to the chambers. In other rooms, staff of the Secretariat punch away at computers. The Nigerian team return to their room to plot strategies to ensure [they do] not concede much. We the journalists were at this point persuaded to return to our hotel to get some sleep, since we came to the meeting from the airport.

DAY 11

7:05 a.m. A knock on the door of my room woke me up. There was Paul Nwabuikwu, the [finance] minister’s special assistant. He half-dragged himself to the room [and said], “We just left and nobody slept a wink. Those guys kept bringing new demands and trying to squeeze every dime.” What of the minister? “She negotiated with them all night,” he said. “You know what the minister told me,” he asked. “Those guys thought I will get angry. But I was too tired to get angry.” With that he shifted to his room, but not before he said: “We are returning there at 10:00 a.m.” That meant the negotiation had run from 9:30 p.m. to 6:30 a.m.

10:10 a.m. The delegates returns to the chambers. Ambassador PB Preware had joined the minister.

10:11 a.m. The secretary of the Paris Club, Mr. Milan, a smooth-talking show man, who can pass for a rock star, stops by our corner – the now popular Nigerian corner. There was Cordelia Ukwuma, and Austin of NTA, Emma Ujah of Vanguard, and a sympathetic Gambian who has come to represent the ADB. We exchange banters and I ask him: “Are we going to have an agreement? Are we going to keep this vigil today?” His answer was trained: “I hope not.”

10:20 a.m. The minister and her group go into the meeting.

10:30 a.m. The Club President Xavier Muscat, his secretary and a few key heads of the delegation leave the entire room upstairs and return to a corner of the waiting lounge for a meeting. They whisper to themselves. We could see there was some debate. This, raised anxiety among Nigerians. Would those people reject Nigeria’s proposals after all this?

10:40 a.m. The [Club] President breaks the meeting and returns upstairs for the day’s session to begin.

11:30 a.m. The National Assembly delegation arrives. In the team are Senator Udoma Udo Udoma, Senator Effiong Bob, Hon. Farouk Lawan and Hon. Sanusi Sadiq.

12:05 p.m. The group meeting in another room came downstairs and walked out of the building. Nobody is sure where they were headed and none could ask them. They are the Paris Club. They were followed by another group of 10 men and women carrying heavy red and blue files, supposedly evidence of Nigeria’s past profligacy and recklessness.

1:10 p.m. The Nigerian delegation leave for lunch. We gather from some of the Paris Club staff that an agreement had been reached, but will be debated after lunch.

4:53 p.m. An IMF official and an aide of the [finance] minister exchange banters. “Is the white smoke out?” he asked the Nigerian, referring to the agreement. “No, the conclave is going well, but the white smoke is not out. However, the Pope is getting dressed.” It did not make sense initially, but it later [hit] us. The wait for the deal has been as long as the Papal Conclave.

11:00 p.m. The Paris Club sends signal that it [is] drafting a press release. This is the first indication that Nigeria has a deal. But another long wait begins.

1:32 a.m. Senator Udoma comes down from the room where the Nigerians were meeting to chat with us. “We will be through in an hour or two,” he said. If it ends in two hours [the time will be] past 3:00 a.m. For people who are booked on a 10:55 a.m. flight to Lagos, that is a hard task. But we have no choice [other] than to wait. Among us, there was a consensus: any sacrifice to ensure that Nigeria does not remain in this indignity was worth it.

3:10 a.m. The agreement in gleaming red folders are brought into the room. After a long wait, the process of signing begins. The minister signed first. Then the agreement is taken to heads of delegations to sign. It was a slow process, repeated to ensure that two sets of agreements are signed.

4:00 a.m. Mr. Ambrose Fayolle, grabs the microphone, satisfied that the deal has gone through. “We are pleased and proud of what we have achieved, collectively in this negotiation,” he began. “We are extremely convinced that without your involvement and commitment this would not have been possible,” he said referring to the minister. “This is a new start for Nigeria and the creditors. This is an exemplary exit strategy and we are proud to be part of your fight against poverty,” he told Nigeria.

Once the minister finished her reponse assuring them of Nigeria’s determination to continue on the path of reform, handshakes and backslaps erupted. Nigerians wildly congratulated each other. Dr. Manzur Mulitar, [Nigeria’s Debt Management Office chief] was overcome with emotion. The feeling was unbelievable. As we made to leave, Mr. Fayolle [vice-president of the Paris Club] announced that the next meeting at 10 a.m. will be with [the] Dominican Republic. Just before she left the secretariat, the [finance] minister said something that ought to guide our policies in the future. She said: “I do not wish that any Nigerian or set of Nigerians will ever come here to face this again.” Does everyone agree?

5:50 a.m. The Nigerian delegation arrive at the residence of [the] ambassador and Mrs. Rewane. His wife had been up all night. She had prepared Nigerian dishes: pounded yam, amala and egusi soup. We were ecstatic and at the same time hungry. We ate amala at that unholy hour and by 6:10 a.m. we were on the way to our hotels and the airport.

Eziuche Ubani, This Day, October 22, 2005