By Malori Maloney
Mike Coogan, a 2007 University of Portland political science graduate, is living anything but the typical post-undergraduate life. Instead of interning at a law firm or working an entry-level job in a corporation, Coogan is teaching Palestinian refugees in the occupied West Bank.
Coogan teaches English and photography in several refugee camps located in Askar, Al Ayn and Balata. "Balata has been full of refugees for 60 years and has been a virtual war zone for much of that time," Coogan said.
Teaching children who have grown up in a war-torn refugee camp is far from easy. "The intifadas (Palestinian uprisings) were largely based out of the refugee camps where they grew up, meaning that those are also the places that the Israelis invade and raid on a daily basis," Coogan said.
Consequently, many students have behavioral problems, difficulty concentrating and poor study habits. On top of that, violence remains a consistent problem among students. This behavior may be perpetuated by administrators who continue to use corporal punishment.
"It's difficult to talk about and I am sort of ashamed to work at a school where corporal punishment is still the norm," Coogan said. He has addressed his concern over the use of corporal punishment with teachers he knows well, but most maintain that it is the only way to keep the kids from getting out of hand.
"I refuse to hit kids and sometimes I pay the price," Coogan said. "I have one class with 52 kids and now that they know I won't strike them, some of them think they can do what they please; I can't kick them out of class because of a litany of UN bureaucratic regulations and fear of what the disciplinarian will do to them, so it's been tough to find creative ways to make some of them behave."
After seeing the struggles and obstacles the children in the refugee camps face day after day, Coogan has come to realize that there are limits to what he can do to help.
"On a conceptual level, I came here to help these kids that have suffered relentless injustice," Coogan said. "Known as 'the intifada generation,' they have lived lives that I cannot begin to understand. On a realistic level, here I am dealing with kids whose lives can't be changed as easily as I once thought. Things have happened to them that can never be rectified."
In order to enter Palestine, Coogan had to use a tourist visa, as people are not permitted to enter the country to work with Palestinians in occupied territories. Each checkpoint and border crossing is manned by Israeli soliers, who control who enters, leaves and moves within Palestine.
Not surprisingly, entering the country under the guise of a tourist proved to be anxiety-inducing for Coogan. He must retain this façade outside the confines of the refugee camps so that he can remain in the country and avoid getting into trouble with Israeli authorities.
"The Palestinian authorities tacitly support my being here; it's the Israeli authorities and specifically the Israeli army that would imprison and/or deport me if they knew I was teaching in Palestine," Coogan said.
Coogan lives in a flat with several other volunteers from a variety of European countries as well as the U.S.
"The flat is located midway up the hills overlooking Nablus," Coogan said. "(The location) is sort of a tricky designation because the U.S. doesn't recognize the state of Palestine, but I live behind what they call the 'green line,' which is where Israel technically ends. Of course, where one border ends and another begins is a major part of the conflict."
Nablus does not have any sort of system to warn its inhabitants of an impending raid.
"When the army comes down for raids, all the dogs start barking, which wakes up the roosters," said Coogan, explaining how residents typically find out about nighttime raids. "Within minutes, the entire town is enveloped in a symphony of barking, cuckooing and small arms fire," Coogan said.
In addition to frequent raids, military checkpoints are also commonalities due to the conflict between Israel and Palestine.
According to Coogan, no one may leave Nablus without going through a checkpoint. Most vehicles may not drive through them, so individuals must get out of their bus or taxi, walk through the checkpoint, and get into another bus or taxi on the other side.
"It's difficult to feel comfortable going through the checkpoints," Coogan said. "There are usually a number of soldiers; one checks your passport and asks questions while another points his M-16 at you. There are soldiers in squat sniper towers pointing larger weapons at you.
"All my life I learned to never point a weapon at anyone and here I am standing in front of a nervous 18-year-old with his finger on the trigger of a gun pointed at my chest."
Despite having to cross the checkpoints at gunpoint, Coogan has an easier time moving in, out and around the country than do many Palestinians.
"I can go virtually anywhere with my tourist alibi," he said. "Behind me is a guy whose family has lived in a village outside Nablus for five generations and he's told he can't leave because his paperwork isn't valid on Jewish holidays," he added, providing an example of the hardships Palestinians face maneuvering from one town to another.
The inability to move freely across checkpoints can have severe consequences. Recently, Majee, a Palestinian Coogan has come to know, was caring for his mother, who has stomach cancer. She became especially ill, but was unable to get adequate care because of checkpoints.
"The hospital in Tulkarem, a nearby town, didn't have the facilities or medicine to cure the cancer or ease the pain," Coogan said.
"The family couldn't obtain the permits necessary to bring her through the checkpoints into Nablus to a better-equipped hospital. Even if they had obtained the permits, Majee was terrified of taking his mother, in her delicate condition, to the Israeli checkpoint only to get harassed and have his mom die in an ambulance surrounded by hostile soldiers with guns asking questions."
Coogan is quick to point out that the majority of Israelis want to live harmoniously with Palestinians.
"Most citizens of Israel are for policies that will foster a peaceful and prosperous relationship with their Palestinian neighbors," he said. "Although many Israelis support peace, they are also in favor of policies that prevent it from happening."
Kevin Gutman, an Israel-born junior who lived in the country until he came to Portland for college, has a similar take on the issue. "I think everyone wants peace, but there are different ways of going about it," Gutman said. Gutman credits Israel with initiating the conflict and feels sympathy for individuals on both sides.
"I always felt, yeah, I'm an Israeli, but I understand the other side," Gutman said. "It makes a lot of sense to me why these people (the Palestinians) want to fight for freedom. They don't have a good life right now."
Gutman pointed out that his views on the conflict are different from most others from Israel and that in his experience most Israelis are much less sympathetic to the Palestinian cause. "People care more about land than lives," Gutman said.
Coogan expressed concern over land disputes as well, particularly the Israeli government's systematic use of settlements to steal more land from the Palestinians.
"The former Prime Minister, Ariel Sharon, reflected the views of many people when he said, 'Everybody has to move; run and grab as many hilltops as they can to enlarge the settlements, because everything we take now will stay ours,'" Coogan said.
Despite witnessing the plight of the people with whom he works, Coogan finds his work rewarding and has hope for the future.
"Things aren't all bad though; the place is full of wonderful teachers and students who are desperate to learn," he said. Coogan signed one of his most recent correspondences, "Eternally optimistic like the Palestinian people. Sincerely, Mike."
