ARTA, Djibouti, Aug. 2 -- Some 2,000 Somalis are sitting together here in the heat, stretching to the limit their genius for talk in search of a central government for a nation that lacks one.

And after five months -- in cafes, in steaming little rooms or under the big air-conditioned tent erected here -- they have gone further than ever in reassembling the stripped bones of the Somali state, which toppled in civil war in 1991. Hope is running cautiously high.

"We believe that this is the moment," said Asha Haji Elmi, leader of the women at the peace conference here. "People are sick and tired of this culture of war. We need a way out. And the only way out is to have a national government."

There are good reasons to be skeptical. Twelve attempts have failed, and the warlords, who have kept Somalia in tatters, are not on board.

But the Somalis at this conference, in neighboring Djibouti, say they are determined to reverse the hatred and clan fighting that have made Somalia the No. 1 symbol of chaos in Africa.

So far, they have agreed on a national charter -- something like a transitional Constitution -- and within the next week expect to elect a three-year, 225-member National Assembly. They have tentatively picked a temporary capital, in the southern city of Baidoa. Already, the campaign for the next president of Somalia, to be elected here by the assembly members, is in high gear.

"Even if this process stopped dead in its tracks five weeks ago, it still would have accomplished more than any of its predecessors in aiding the reconciliation of Somalia," said Lange Schermerhorn, the American ambassador in Djibouti. "Now, of course, it has achieved even more."

Every day brings its own drama, and the conference has nearly collapsed. But it is moving shakily along, fueled by endless talk, free roasted camel and the daily shipment of khat, the mild stimulant that makes people talk even more.

What makes this round of talks different is that it is not based on the warlords, who carved up the nation of about 10 million people with their militias after the dictatorship of Muhammad Siad Barre fell in 1991.

The warlords were the main reason for the failure of the United Nations operation to feed Somalia during a severe drought in the early 1990's. In that effort, 18 American soldiers died in 1993, ending Washington's appetite for sending troops to keep peace in Africa.

That failure has haunted all subsequent efforts at peacekeeping in Africa, and remains a major reason for reluctance to send foreign troops into Congo, a broader conflict in a larger nation. Thus there is no suggestion of sending peacekeepers into Somalia again as part of the plans to create a new government, though Somalia presents less challenge for cohesion than most African nations: Somalis share a common language, religion, ethnicity and nomadic culture.

For this conference, the warlords were invited, but just as ordinary citizens or members of their clan. Instead, the talks have, in theory, been based on the idea of a civil society -- including groups of elders, businessmen, religious leaders, intellectuals and women.

They have been joined by many of the half-million Somalis living outside the country -- settling in places like Ethiopia, the United States, Scandinavia and the Arab countries -- who say they want to return to a stable home.

"This actually goes beyond the warlords," said Abdurahman A. Ibrahim, 47, a former university professor in Somalia who is now a businessman in Australia. Ordinary Somalis, he said, "are coming together and saying: Why do we fight? Why are our women becoming widows? Why are we obeying people who call themselves warlords?"

In reality, the talks have revolved around the country's clans. The clan system has been one of the major forces dividing Somalia but, Somalis here argue, is the only remaining social institution of any strength. And so the seats in the assembly have been divided up by the four major clans, along with some seats for minority clans and 25 seats reserved for women.

People here say the open emphasis on clans has allowed the settling of old scores, forgiveness for clansmen killed or land taken in war -- all to the good. But critics argue that any solution based on clans will merely keep the nation divided.

The president of Djibouti, Ismael Omar Gelleh, who has spent a good deal of his nation's meager resources as well as his own prestige on the conference, has strongly argued instead for an assembly based on regional representation.

The complexity of Somalia's clan-based society and the resulting problems are evident everywhere, particularly in the division of seats for the National Assembly.

On Monday afternoon, for instance, a man named Ali Muhammad Ahmed, a 40-year-old accountant, lay on a mat under the shade of a tree in protest. He said he had been on a hunger strike for four days because his subclan, the Hingeye, had not been given a seat in Parliament, though a brother subclan, the Warsangali, had been given a seat.

"I will lie here until I receive what is right," he said. The Hingeye, he said, has 600 members in northern Somalia. "No, no, it's only five people," Muhammad Adam, a 43-year-old architect from the brother clan, said dismissively. "If you can find the 600, fine."

Mr. Adam, who lives in England and left his job to attend the talks, said he was worried about the emphasis on tribe. "This tribal thing has caused a lot of problems," he said. "We fear that when it comes to rebuilding the country -- like schools and hospitals -- people will fight over things along tribal lines." If the conference succeeds, he added, "I will back it 100 percent, but I have my doubts."

Even if the conference does succeed, everyone concedes it is only the first step on a very long road. "This is a process, not an event, and that's important," said Ms. Schermerhorn, the American ambassador.

For one, any new government will have to contend with the warlords, whose power has diminished in recent years as businessmen and Islamic groups have pushed for order, but who still have militias.

Perhaps more important, the new government will have to deal with two regions of the old Somalia that have gone their separate ways since 1991 and established a good measure of order on their own.

One is Puntland, to the northeast, headed by Col. Abdullahi Yussuf Ahmed. The other, and more influential, is Somaliland in the northwest, which has proclaimed itself a separate nation and lobbied hard for both international recognition and outside assistance.

The leader of Somaliland is Muhammad Ibrahim Egal, a prime minister of all of Somalia in the 1960's and arguably Somalia's most respected politician. He has refused to take part in the conference, saying that he will not gamble with the accomplishments of Somaliland until the south demonstrates stability.

Somaliland also is concerned that many people at the conference are former members of the Barre regime, which tried to destroy Somaliland during the civil war.

Many Somalis here still hope that Mr. Egal will join in, perhaps even taking the position of president. Otherwise, people here say any new government will have to negotiate with him.

A leading candidate for president, Abdullahi Ahmed Addou, for years the Somali ambassador to the United States, said that in fact the charter would allow for changes by the broader population.

"Whatever will be agreed here in Djibouti is not the Koran," he said. "It is not the Bible. It is not the Torah. It has to be flexible."

There is a strong sense here that if this conference fails, Somalia is doomed to another decade of disorder. Outside nations have already all but turned their back on Somalia, and Djibouti has little else to give.

Some important people are wagering their political futures on the conference's success, among them Hassan Abshir, the former mayor of Mogadishu, who until the conference began held a top position in Puntland. He is now the leader of the conference here, charged with keeping all of Somalia's determined and divided groups talking.

"We are telling them the truth," he said. "They have had nine years. If they go back, never will they come back to another conference. This is the last chance."