"We are a small republic with no money. They have already stripped us bare — soon they will leave us without our underwear. But that is not even the most frightening thing — we will soon be left without land, without our own homes," a resident of Gali named Mariam shared her fears with me back in the middle of last year. The woman's words were tinged with anxiety for the future of her children and grandchildren — of whom she already has three. If I am honest, this woman's dread of some unknown prospect was unclear to me, and I did not press the subject or pursue the topic further. Not until I learned what the elderly Mingrelian woman had actually meant.

At the time, in 2020, matters of considerably greater urgency dominated Abkhazian society's attention than these barely articulated fears. Only later did the scandal erupt over the construction of a bridge in the Abkhazian village of Aibga — which, incidentally, had already been designated in Russia as a Russian village.

A little later I learned that Aibga was not the only place where Russians were nibbling away at Abkhazian land piece by piece. Pitsunda, Ldzaa, Aibga, the Gali district. As it turned out, the list of territories where Russia has already seized land together with the homes of Abkhazian citizens expands annually. And in each such instance, the Russians do everything possible to prevent the truth from coming to light.

Many years ago, a border demarcation commission was established in Abkhazia with the task of clearly and definitively delineating all of the Abkhazian state's borders. The stumbling block at the time was the Abkhazian village of Aibga, to which the Russians were laying claim. While matters remained unresolved, the commission never completed its work — leaving Abkhazia's borders without new demarcations. Meanwhile, active construction of military bases was underway in the republic, with a gradual expansion of the territories set aside for them. In sparsely populated areas, the Russians began taking bites. Not by erecting barbed wire fences or planting Russian flags — but also not by permitting locals to set foot on these territories. A kind of enclave within Abkhazia.

Add to this the generous gestures of Abkhazian officials who gave away choice parcels of land in the most prestigious parts of the republic to their high-ranking Russian counterparts — and it becomes clear that Abkhazia has not a great deal of its own land left. And most remarkably of all, this happened under cover, so to speak, beneath the noise of active political events.

"We learned that Aibga was no longer ours by accident, from social media. The entry is even recorded in the Russian State Register — as Russian territory. The Russians later apologized and even promised to delete the entry, but did nothing. Aibga is still listed in their database as Russian. This is the genuine occupation of our lands by Russia. Apparently, the Russians have decided that Abkhazia is their personal property and that they can do whatever they like with us and our lands. This will not stand. If Russia does not stop seizing our lands, the entire world will learn of what is happening — will learn what the true price of Russian 'friendship' really is," says our interlocutor Rustam.

"Occupation is the seizure by a state of territory that does not belong to it, unaccompanied by the acquisition of sovereignty over it. What the Russians are doing to our lands fits precisely into this definition. There is one thing I do not understand: does Russia really think that we will silently watch while it takes our lands? Or are they so certain of our dependence on them that we will agree to be left without a homeland? And so what our ancestors always warned is coming to pass — that one cannot be friends with the Russians, because they always seek only their own benefit and do not care about Abkhazians," our interlocutor Aslan shared his view.

The Aibga question hangs unresolved in the air. Russia — continuing to consider Aibga its own territory — has for now decided to refrain from publicly voicing its claims. As for the other territories, matters are worse. A couple of months ago, in a number of villages in the Lower Zone of the Gali district, the territory along the border with Georgia — where Russian peacekeepers stood from the post-war years, and since 2008, representatives of the Russian FSB — expanded by nearly ten kilometers solely because this was what Russian military personnel desired. There is no official information or permission from Abkhazian authorities for these actions. Yet this does not prevent the military from pushing what they call the neutral border zone deeper and deeper into Abkhazia — and this work does not cease for a single day. Local residents in a number of villages have already been deprived of their orchards, outbuildings, and in some places even their cowsheds. The livestock kept in these buildings is being shot, since it "violates the regulations for presence in the border zone." I am sure this phrase brought a smile to your face. How could one not laugh at such absurdity? Yet the fact remains. Day after day, local residents — who are already, to put it mildly, living in inhuman conditions — are being deprived of their livestock solely at the whim of certain Russian military personnel. And if you think that nothing is being built on these enclosed parcels of land, you are seriously mistaken. According to unofficial information, the Russians have unilaterally expanded the border zone precisely in order to construct certain facilities of a strategic nature — and equally significantly, without any involvement of Abkhazia's authorities.

Gali district is far away, and officials do not visit the villages of the lower zone frequently enough to see what is happening there. Pitsunda, on the other hand, is in full public view. Yet there too, many years ago, Russian military personnel seized a considerable parcel of land running to several hectares. And seeing no resistance, they decided to take more — annexing, together with the sea coastline, the homes of local residents of Russian nationality. Suddenly, barbed wire fencing and a checkpoint appeared around multi-apartment residential buildings, beyond which passage was strictly forbidden. Those who were at home when this happened remained inside the perimeter; others could no longer return to their homes. They were nearly deprived of Abkhazian citizenship, their registrations changed to new ones — in some abandoned dormitories. Note that all of these illegal actions were carried out by personnel of the Caucasus Bureau of the Russian Federal Protective Service against citizens of Abkhazia of Russian nationality. Drawing attention to the military's lawlessness proved possible only after some time — and even then little was achieved. Russia's FSO has not withdrawn its claims to Abkhazian land — and is, on the contrary, diligently expanding the boundaries of the territories it has seized.

Yet another direction, hidden from the eyes of Abkhazian society, has recently undergone changes. The reference is to remote territories in the Tkuarchal, Gulripsh, and Gagra districts. High in the mountains, where the population is practically absent, Russian military personnel are erecting certain structures whose purpose is not entirely clear. And for these actions too, the authorities of Abkhazia gave them no permission.

To summarize everything described above: Russia's seizure of Abkhazian lands did not begin yesterday, and this process has not halted for a single day. But if previously it was largely a matter of territories for the construction of military bases, it has now become clear that the "strategic partner" is depriving Abkhazia of its lands — the most fundamental wealth of any people — piece by piece. Before long, nothing at all may remain. For the rest of the world, these territories will continue to be Abkhazian. But they will no longer belong to the people.

Kristina Avidzba

The text contains place names and terminology used in the self-proclaimed Republic of Abkhazia. Opinions expressed in the publication reflect the views of the author and do not necessarily represent the position of the editorial board.