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Mimika. Mimika's population is just 184,000 but it is one of the top three richest regencies in Indonesia. Millions in development funds from Jakarta have poured into it over the past decade.

But as one drives into its capital Timika, a question comes to mind: Where did all the money go? The streets are punctured with potholes, while intersections do not have traffic lights.

And where are the native Papuans? Shops and restaurants that line the main street are owned and operated by people from South Sulawesi, Java, West Sumatra and other parts of Indonesia. The indigenous Papuans, with their distinctive Melanesian features, are a rare sight in the town center. Most live in the rural areas.

This divide, replicated in many cities and towns in this sprawling region, has added to the Papuans' sense of marginalization and resentment.

Grievances are stoked by the emergence of a new elite made up largely of outsiders.

Accusing fingers are pointed at local leaders by angry Papuans for putting the largesse from Jakarta to questionable use; none has come their way, they say.

At the root of periodic bouts of unrest in this province is the view long held by sections of the Papuan community: They and their land are not part of Indonesia. Papua - which covers the western half of the world's second largest island and makes up over one-fifth of Indonesia's land mass - was once part of the Dutch East Indies.

Caught in a messy post-independence tussle between the Dutch and the fledgling government in Jakarta, it only formally became part of Indonesia in 1969, and for a time was known as Irian Jaya.

As the government opened up the resource-rich province for development, large numbers of immigrants from all across the archipelago moved over.

The influx added to the unresolved problems associated with its integration with Indonesia: Native Papuans complained of being sidelined and discriminated against by the culturally and ethnically different newcomers.

Tough action by security forces to stamp out separatist elements added fuel to the resistance.

Precise figures on the toll of the decades-long insurgency are hard to come by, but a figure commonly cited by human rights groups is that some 100,000 Papuans have died as a result of repression and neglect since the 1960s.

After the downfall of President Suharto in 1998, the province was renamed Papua and granted special autonomy status - referred to widely as otsus, short for Otonomi Khusus - in 2001 in a bid to accelerate its development while acknowledging its distinctiveness.

The north-west portion of the province was further hived off to form West Papua province in 2003.

But many among the approximately two-million indigenous Papuans - who now make up just over half the population in their homeland - have continued to agitate for independence.

This sentiment was evident in the many celebrations held throughout Papua on Dec 1 to raise the banned Morning Star flag to mark the anniversary of what some refer to as Papua's "independence."

Why this sense of alienation, which reports in the Indonesian media suggest is growing? For many, like sweet potato grower Alex Ouwame, 35, of the Amungme tribe, continuing poverty is a key factor, and he pins the blame on Jakarta.

"Otsus is not right. We want independence - out from Indonesia," he said shortly after a flag-hoisting incident in Timika Indah field on Dec 2, which prompted police to open fire on a crowd to bring down the two flags deemed separatist.

There are no known fatalities, but Papuans and police have each claimed that five persons on their side were wounded.

The poverty that Ouwame refers to is made even more apparent by the continuing influx of new arrivals, many of whom have settled in Papua as part of the central government's transmigration policy.

Monsignor John Philip Saklil, head of the Catholic Church in Timika, the capital of Mimika regency, notes that these migrants compete directly with indigenous Papuans in trades and other jobs, and often, as they are more skilled, they do better.

"This has created a wider gap in the distribution of income," Bishop Saklil said.

Here, as in many cities in Papua, the more established businesses are run by Indonesian migrants who come from Java, Sumatra, South Sulawesi and East Nusa Tenggara, while many Papuans work as security officers, store keepers or sell betel nuts and fruit on the road side.

The gap in earnings is evident. Recent disclosures of rampant corruption of development funds meant to help lift the lot of ordinary Papuans have only aggravated matters.

The otsus law stipulates annual transfers of funds to the Papua region for development and allows it to retain 70 per cent of its oil and gas revenues, a much higher retention rate than that allowed for other provinces.

But well-intentioned as it is, the otsus efforts have created problems of their own.

The latest random audit announced in late November by the Supreme Audit Agency found that hundreds of billions of rupiah of some 28 trillion rupiah ($3.08 billion) of special autonomy funds channeled from Jakarta to Papua in the past decade have gone missing.

In the last two years alone, as much as 566 billion rupiah worth of expenses by the local governments in the provinces of Papua and West Papua could not be properly accounted for, the audit found.

Some travel expense claims, for example, were based on counterfeit airplane ticket receipts.

The desire for independence would not have been as strong had native Papuans been better off economically, say analysts like Muridan Widjojo of the Indonesian Institute of Sciences.

Muridan said: "Had otsus been running smoothly and had there been no state violence, the calls for independence would have been weakened, because they no longer had justification.

"Corruption would just strengthen the Papuans' distrust in the Indonesian government," he added. "They don't care whether the government officials are Papuans or not. In other words, the Papuan commoners would just blame Jakarta."

In a bid to address this widespread discontent, Jakarta established a special government body - the Special Unit for the Acceleration of Development in Papua and West Papua, or UP4B - in September.

Its aim is to speed up development in Papua and get special autonomy back on track.

The unit is headed by retired Lieutenant General Bambang Darmono, who played a key role in bringing about a peace agreement in Aceh in 2005.

He has long argued that economic development without a political settlement is doomed to fail.

The unit reports directly to President Susilo Bambang Yudhoyono and is tasked with making sure there is enough food supply in Papua, that poor residents in remote areas get attention and that health care and education services are delivered to all.

Its mandate is to coordinate all government activities and projects in Papua that will lead to the improvement of the well-being of the Papuan people, Vice-President Boediono told foreign correspondents at a forum this month.

While Indonesia would reject all attempts to internationalize the issue of Papua, it would consider inviting foreign observers to the province to see the result of this new approach at a later date, Boediono added.

In the meantime, the unit should be given time to do its work first, he stressed.

On the ground, views remain divided. Elminus B. Mom, an Amungme highlander tribe warrior turned parliamentarian, believes independence for Papua is "non-negotiable."

"It is everyone's right. Papuans will someday be liberated. It's just a matter of time. If it's not during my lifetime, my children will definitely experience it. Deep in his heart, every Papuan would want independence," he said.

But not everyone distrusts Jakarta.

Said fisherman Herman Okoreyau, 46, of the coastal Kamoro tribe, who nets crab, fish and shrimp for a living: "The government has been nice these past years. They give away rice every three months. I got my boat engine free from them."

Asked whether Papua should be an independent state, he simply smiled.

Over the past four decades, many Papuans have made inroads into top rungs of the bureaucracy in Jakarta.

There have been ministers, top bureaucrats and senior military figures from the region, and many fly the country's flag in sports.

Yet a significant number among their fellow Papuans back home feel cut off in the management of the resources of their land and in the returns to be gained from them.

Papua has the world's biggest gold mine, operated by American mining giant Freeport-McMoRan, and a £100 billion ($156 billion) gas field - among the largest in the world - run by London-based oil company BP.

Said Jakarta-based veteran politician Angkola Pandapotan Harahap: "It's human instinct to want to be free, to want independence. If you ask people in Riau, they would say they want independence because they have oil. People in South Sumatra would say the same and claim they have plenty of plantations. But do we all want to break up and be weakened?"

U4BP has its work cut out for it in reaching a lasting deal in Papua.

But there are glimmers of hope for those looking for a change in attitude, some to be found in unlikely places like the national football team where Papuans are the star players.

Asked about Papua days after Indonesia's footballers won the silver at last month's South-East Asia Games, striker and rising star Patrich Steve Wanggai, 23, told MetroTV: "We know there is lack of government attention on Papua, but there is no question, we are proud to play for Indonesia."