It is a poor, subsistence economy encompassing half an island, but it has thousands of expensive four-wheel-drive vehicles and only a few hundred local fishing boats. This bizarre imbalance reflects the wrenching changes that East Timor has been through since its people overwhelmingly dared to vote a year ago to separate from Indonesia. In the weeks after the ballot, eight out of ten of its fishing craft were destroyed by pro-Indonesia militias in their determination to cripple the new country at birth. They also destroyed almost everything else of any worth.

The vindictiveness of the militias was staggering. With help from the Indonesian army, they forcibly removed over 200,000 people from the territory, more than a quarter of its population. Before an Australian-led intervention force arrived in September, they had killed hundreds, perhaps thousands, of independence supporters: the number of bodies dumped in the deep undersea trenches offshore will never be known. The militias also destroyed crops, seeds, fishing nets and farm animals, or stole what they could carry away. Everything else was burnt. Even the irrigation ditches in one town were filled with concrete. "Evil minds are very creative," says Sergio Vieira de Mello, who is in charge the closest thing the new country has to a government, the United Nations Transitional Administration for East Timor (UNTAET).

The four-wheel-drive vehicles arrived with the UN and the waves of international aid workers who are trying to help the East Timorese put their country back together again. The challenges they have are enormous. But at least UNTAET is now able to operate in mostly peaceful conditions. The militias were driven westward into the Indonesian half of Timor (see map), although some militiamen have returned. In recent clashes, two peacekeepers were killed, one from New Zealand and the other from Nepal.

Across the border, the situation remains dangerous. While many East Timorese have returned from the camps they were herded into, between 90,000 to 120,000 remain there. After complaining of increasing violence by pro-Indonesia militiamen operating in the camps, the UN's refugee agency announced on August 23rd that it was suspending operations in West Timor. In what has become a common complaint across the troubled archipelago, the UN accused Indonesian security forces of doing nothing to stop the violence. The Indonesian government has announced plans to close the camps in West Timor, but to no avail. Whether the new cabinet, which Indonesia announced this week (see article), will prove to be more determined remains to be seen.

Even though most of East Timor, and the capital, Dili, are now calm, the risk of renewed violence is such that UN forces will have to remain long after UNTAET gives way to a civilian East Timorese government, a process due to take place towards the end of next year. What that government will look like and what progress the new nation will have made by then remains uncertain.

Time for seeds The most urgent tasks are repairing the economy, dealing with health emergencies and returning people's lives to some kind of normality. The next few months will be critical. The new planting season for rice and maize will begin in December. UNTAET is still racing to get seeds, tools and other agricultural necessities out to all the districts in time. Mari Alkatiri, the economics minister in the transitional cabinet, believes they will succeed. But then another problem arises: how to get the harvest to market? East Timor's poor roads have been torn up by military vehicles. The problem was compounded by heavy rain last year, which, alongside deforestation of the hillsides, caused many embankments to collapse. That badly affected the distribution of fruit, vegetables and staple crops. Although UNTAET has been busy repairing roads, military vehicles are still chewing them up. The next rainy season is now approaching. "You are spending money for nothing," says Mr Alkatiri, "but you have to spend it anyway."

UNTAET is also working frantically to prepare for the new school year, which will start on October 2nd. It is spending $14m of emergency money from the World Bank to build schools, construct makeshift desks and buy basic supplies. Many children have already begun attending some classes, often held in empty, burnt-out buildings. The quickest way to get a smile from the children in Dili's streets is to ask them the name of their teacher.

For many East Timorese, however, it will be hundreds of smaller projects that will make all the difference. These are being carried out by UNTAET and the many NGOs. A handful of people in the agricultural department, for example, are lending a hand to the fishermen. Besides supplying materials to help build new craft, they are also trying to do something for those who were wealthy enough to own an outboard motor. The fishermen went to great lengths to hide these precious assets from the militias, often burying them in the hillsides. As they are being dug up, UNTAET has hired a mechanic to help clean them and get them going again.

The private sector has also been busy. Dusty Miller, an Australian contractor who now runs East Timor Logistics, was one of the first foreigners to arrive in the territory after the Australian-led force came ashore. His firm has been paving the way for other contractors to come over from Darwin and Perth. The first business he lured over was Eddie's Crane Service, which has set up at the wharf in Dili to start unloading construction materials. Mr Miller then encouraged electricians, plumbers and builders to set up shop. Garland Electrical, now Garland East Timor, has hired a dozen local youngsters to train as electricians. In a shocking example of how corrupt life was for the locals, Mr Miller says that he could not understand why the East Timorese were so nervous whenever it was pay day. Then it dawned on him: "They were waiting for someone to put a hand out and take half their wages."

It is just one small way in which the new arrivals have improved on Indonesian rule. But there are still plenty of complaints about the role that UNTAET and other foreigners are playing in the new nation's development. One of the most common sayings nowadays is tidak jalan: things are not moving. Locals see lots of bureaucratic activity but not yet the results, an impatience exacerbated by the massive differences in wealth and lifestyle between the East Timorese and their helpers in those four-wheel-drive vehicles.

The cultural invasion can seem overwhelming to ordinary people. As in other places, only some of East Timor's international aid workers are humble servants of the poor. But however understandable these complaints, most of them seem unfair. In fact, the biggest problem with UNTAET is that it is such a source of hope for the East Timorese that it may start the new country off down a path which it cannot expect to sustain. The population of Dili, the centre of most aid efforts, is already twice what it was before the ballot a year ago. As more goods have become available in the city, the influx of people has sent prices skyrocketing. If UNTAET does not reverse the influx soon, Dili could turn into a miniature version of an overcrowded and squalid Manila.

Mr Vieira de Mello says that he is aware of the problem, and that UNTAET is now trying to create more opportunities outside the capital. The most promising plan it has is to start developing a handful of small ports, especially on the southern coast. If this succeeds, it will not only set up additional magnets for displaced people, but could also make it easier to ship produce and other goods around the country.

The UN will also have to find ways to work with East Timor's future leaders. Another criticism levelled at UNTAET is that it has done too little to consult the East Timorese. Since the UN is keen on promoting democracy, this is a complaint many in UNTAET are eager to address. Mr Vieira de Mello hopes that two recent changes will help. He has replaced a consultative council with a bigger group of people drawn from each of East Timor's 13 districts and from a number of its social groups. This may help to counter allegations that the UN is dealing with only a few elite leaders, such as Xanana Gusmao, the charismatic chief of Falintil, East Timor's independence fighters, who was captured by Indonesian troops in 1992 and freed in September last year.

Xanana Gusmao, president-in-waiting? On August 20th, Mr Gusmao announced he was stepping down as commander of Falintil, thus clearing the way for a political career. He is expected by many people to become East Timor's first president. Falintil itself is now trying to turn itself into a conventional army that answers to East Timor's government. Its soldiers are now co-operating with the peacekeepers.

It was after a meeting with local political leaders that UNTAET put in place its new transitional cabinet, with half the ministers-including Mr Alkatiri-drawn from East Timor. Hopefully, this will ease the transition to an elected government. But before that happens, the UN also hopes to build institutions that the East Timorese will be eager to preserve. There is a long way to go. UNTAET's justice ministry, in particular, draws sharp rebukes from local human-rights groups. They complain that it has been too slow to prosecute criminals, and that it has not tried hard enough to meet its own "universal" standards.

Yet UNTAET is not the only source of political tension in East Timor. Many local groups are painfully aware of the divisions that existed in 1975, before the Portuguese territory was invaded by Indonesia and then annexed the following year. The National Council for Timorese Resistance, an umbrella group of different factions set up to oppose Indonesian occupation, began a ten-day conference this week to prepare for the handover. As it did so, a few voices were quietly insisting that unity is paramount, and they were hoping that their leaders would not let them down.

One of those leaders, Jose Ramos Horta, is confident that the conference will deliver. He expects East Timor's political groups to emerge with a common platform on core issues, such as how the financial system should operate and on health care. That would reduce the amount of bickering in the first national elections.

Mr Ramos Horta also claims that arguments over national symbols, such as language and currency, will not get out of hand. Most East Timorese are still happy to speak Indonesian with foreigners. But returned exiles, such as Mr Ramos Horta himself, are keen to promote the use of Portuguese, which they believe will give East Timor more of a sense of identity. He likes to show visitors the world's first Tetum-Portuguese dictionary, which allows translation between the local language and the former colonial one. Against the wishes of some younger East Timorese, he is now advocating use of both languages, with a third language, English, to be taught as a sort of job skill.

There are bound to be plenty of such arguments over the coming year as East Timor's leaders work out a draft constitution and negotiate the handover. The choices will get even harder after UNTAET leaves, especially as there will no longer be a third party to mediate in disputes or to take the blame. But such is the price of freedom.