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On a recent trip to East Timor, while talking to fishermen on Areia Branca Beach, hanging out with taxi drivers, getting lost cycling in Dili with its new street names, catching up with friends working for the United Nations there, having dinner with a Nobel laureate and coffee with a presidential candidate, it was clear that there is one common feeling among East Timorese: despite the misery of the past, despite the persistent problems of unemployment and poverty, the country is looking forward to a better future.

The country, which will elect a new president next month, however, is struggling to attract investment. It is also working hard to make the most of its oil revenues, foreign aid and other revenue sources to rebuild the nation.

Chinese investment is noteworthy — the most visible contributions being the Presidential Palace, the Ministry of Defense, the Ministry of Foreign Affairs and some other key buildings in the capital. But future investment needs to deal with human development and social capital, especially for East Timor’s youth.

If East Timor could strategically invest its limited income, while at the same time tackling corruption, the country might leap forward in the tourism and agriculture sectors. But it’s not there yet.

In the long term, East Timor’s economic outlook will be affected greatly by its relationship with its two biggest neighbors: Indonesia and Australia.

The relationship with Indonesia is most important as it is both bigger and closer, and therefore more easily accessible. Smugglers at the border with West Timor, part of Indonesia’s East Nusa Tenggara province, have already figured this out. It is the politicians from both countries who need to get a better understanding about this situation.

Politically, East Timor is a country in transition. War heroes and heroines are its leaders. The former head of the armed struggle for independence, Xanana Gusmao, is the prime minister. A Nobel Prize winner, Jose Ramos-Horta, is the president. Former underground activists, mostly political prisoners during the time of Indonesian rule, are members of Parliament, ministers, ambassadors or in charge of government agencies.

The challenge is: how do we ensure that former fighters do not hamper the nation-building process? In other words: how can the country’s political culture be transformed from a militaristic way of running state affairs to a more open, democratic approach? This is also a question of leadership: how can former commanders of the resistance become good peacetime leaders? This requires different skills and a different mind-set.

It is also necessary for East Timor to move away from the fallacy that those who experienced hardship and suffered greatly during the struggle with Indonesia are more entitled than others to lead the nation. Coming from Aceh, which is still in transition after the 2005 peace agreement signed by Jakarta and the Free Aceh Movement (GAM), I know how deleterious this rhetoric can be.

Progress won’t come easy — many countries struggle for many years after gaining independence.

But as the East Timorese are struggling to come to terms with the past, they are bound to become stronger in dealing with the future. And there already is a collective, national spirit that is waiting to be tapped into.

Overall, democracy is working in East Timor. It is messy, like democracy usually is. The executive, legislative and judicial branches are often in conflict, but that is not extraordinary. This can be seen as a way of settling arguments through the legal system — much preferable to open conflict.

In this regard, the presidential election, on March 17, will be a milestone for the transition process.

Yet regardless of the political progress, 10 years after independence from Indonesia and after 30 years of seclusion from the world, the small nation needs assistance more than ever. And Indonesia is well-positioned to lend a hand.

Talking to ordinary East Timorese, it is clear that friendship with Indonesia is high on the country’s wish list. As one fisherman told me: “Our kids speak Portuguese at school, Tetum at home, but watch Indonesian TV at night.”

“We love Indonesian sinetron,” I heard time and again.

“We love Indonesian food,” another fisherman told me in fluent Indonesian, while Portuguese and Tetum are the country’s official languages.

The people are more connected culturally with Indonesia than with any other place. Many civil servants and primary school teachers, forced to speak Portuguese in the workplace or in schools, are visibly uncomfortable.

They understand the logic behind the political decision to create a new national identity, but there is also a need to be practical. For this reason, Indonesian continues to be used in daily conversation alongside Tetum.

Now is a good time for Indonesia to aid East Timor’s transition and help it shape its own future. Indonesia is in a much better position to do so than any other country, both strategically and politically. Looking at the past and the future, it is our responsibility to help our neighbor.

East Timor has been very eager to talk about its future relationship with Indonesia. Many among East Timor’s leaders are trying to look past atrocities committed by Indonesia. They are worried that opening the wounds of the past would hamper their future friendship with us. The country realizes it needs to have a good relationship with its most important neighbor.

East Timor, as a relatively new nation, would like to have zero enemies and a thousand friends — and the most important friend could be Indonesia.

The East Timorese may have gained independence, but they are yet to fully enjoy the privilege of choice. This is something we, Indonesians, already have.

Agus Wandi is a former fellow of Harvard University’s Weatherhead Center for International Affairs.