the value of being an expert

I earn £41 (about €59) a day for coaxing along 30 underprivileged and often damaged 7-year old children. I can earn £241 a day (€350) if I continue to work as a ‘consultant’ internationally, teaching groups of 15 to 20 young Georgians what the text books written in the west tell us about human rights and advocacy, playing games with them and lapping up the Georgian culture.

Of course €350 is not a particularly well paid consultant, as any consultant will tell you. Many charge up to €1,000 for teaching those whose rights are being violated that their rights are being violated. Some will charge even more. If you are a lawyer talking about human rights, I dread to think how many euros you can manage to squeeze out of the international coffers. Ask Cherie Blair.

And then, of course, there are the per diems: the money you get paid for making the trip to Georgia and for the joys of eating out in Georgian restaurants, living in Georgian hotels and travelling in Georgian taxis (because most consultants travel in taxis). The EU’s recommended per diem for Georgia is €223. That’s every day; on top of the salary.

You can’t possibly spend €223 every day in Georgia, unless you live in a 5-star hotel and have 2 meals a day in the international 5-star restaurant. But then that is what consultants often do, and they certainly aren’t expected to pay for that luxury themselves – not out of their meagre €350 a day (bare minimum).

So who pays for all of that? Well – I do, I suppose, out of my taxes. But I suspect it is the Georgians who are really paying: not only in the sense that they ought to be receiving that money themselves, if it is really international ‘aid’, but also in the concessions, deals and contracts that the EU members make them sign up to, as a condition of receiving EU ‘aid’. A condition of having international consultants foisted on them, charging more per day than most of them can hope to receive in a month, and sometimes in a year. The Georgians are supposed to be grateful, of course. Grateful and humble.

I don’t get paid a per diem for working on the Blackbird Leys estate. In fact, as in most other jobs, we are expected to pay for our own food, transport and accommodation out of the salaries we take home (all £41 a day of them). Outrageous.

I don’t get to take aeroplane flights and lap up the Georgian culture, and I don’t get to feel important, be treated like an honoured guest, and be referred to as an International Expert.

Being an international expert is very prestigious: you must be very skilled and expert to be an expert. I know, because I was an expert, and I’ve seen lots of experts. The Georgians have a joke about an international expert who is hired to tell the Georgians how to farm their land – something they’ve been doing for centuries (and something the expert has never done). The expert arrives in his brand new shiny Land rover and says to the Georgian farmer: ‘I bet I can tell you how many cattle you have’. ‘Go on’, says the farmer. The expert tells the Georgians to round up the cattle and put them all in the pen. He shoes a few in himself, taking care not to dirty his new shoes. ‘So how many?’ asks the farmer. ‘29’ says the Expert. ’28,’ says the farmer ‘and can I have my dog back please’.

The children in Blackbird Leys don’t treat you as if you were important and an expert; and lapping up the culture there while interesting, is not quite the same as Georgia. The food is worse, for one thing.

Unlike the Georgian youth I work with - many of whom come from the more privileged classes there, and are regular participants at international meetings and trainings - the 7-year olds in Blackbird Leys require, need and deserve almost full time attention. Very few of them get it at home. Many are on the child protection register, two members of the class are on the physical abuse register, one is a child carer, looking after his disabled father when he gets home from school, and one watched her mother take an overdose of drugs and is now looked after by her father. Most come from broken families, and one spends much of the day on his back, scooting around the room and giving out unceasing commentary in a shrill voice, taking away other people’s pencils and pulling the girls’ hair. Many are rebellious, angry, hurting, exhausted. The one who scoots on his back has 4 brothers and sisters and they have 2 beds between them. Most days he comes in without having had any breakfast.

I know which is more difficult - being an international expert, or being a child coaxer day in, day out. And I know which is better paid.