Before it became a world-class artisan industry, Marikina shoemaking was pioneered in 1887 by Laureano Guevara, the son of an Escolta shop owner from whom he learned the ropes of business at a young age. Later known as Kapitan Moy, his initiative on the craft was eventually adopted and coined by the locals as silong-silong, a backyard industry where footwear was assembled from their respective households. This humble beginning of Marikina shoes was instrumental to its prime by the turn of the 20th century when it soared as a multi-million-peso industry.
Since then, the footwear business has become integral to the Marikeños’ livelihood. “[Dito] nakapag-establish ang parents ko ng kabuhayan nila [at] ‘dun [din] kinuha [‘yung] pagpapaaral sa amin,” recalls Roweliza Landicho, a third generation shoemaker and owner of Roweliza Shoes and Bags.
(Marikina shoes have been the livelihood of my parents which they also used to fund our education.)
Years later, contrary to buzzing claims, the renowned shoe capital of the Philippines is far from its dwindling end. The Marikina shoe industry is “climbing a steep uphill,” instead describes Zapateria managing director Glice Batulan. Zapateria is the first Philippine creative hub for footwear design and development based in Marikina, and it collaborates with local creatives and innovators. Hence, the shoemakers are fueled by their passion for continuing the craft of quality shoemaking, all the while courageously confronting contemporary challenges.
A tight-knit community
The craftsmen of Marikina, usually hailing from the older generation, were not actually taught how to make shoes. Instead, it was a skill they had honed over the years through exposure
It’s these refined skills that make a world of difference. “Matibay na, komportable pa, at gawang puso. I think that sets [our products] apart from a lot of the other countries,” proudly shares Unyx Sta. Ana, founder and president of Zapateria. Through the ups and downs of the local industry, Marikina shoemakers have remained committed to delivering durable handmade shoes, especially at a time when footwear brands conveniently rely on mass production.
(It’s sturdy, comfortable, and made with heart.)
Several manufacturers, especially in the apparel industry, turn to mass production to meet the growing demand of customers while keeping costs minimal. Although an efficient way of manufacturing goods, this highly mechanized method sacrifices the quality and longevity of the product, such as footwear.
In contrast, Marikina shoes remain “not highly industrialized;” they mostly rely on artisans who meticulously put together pairs of shoes, mainly by hand, where some are made-to-order. But Sta. Ana contends, “There’s agility with becoming small.” Their team of shoemakers can adapt to various designs they envision and eagerly experiment on. Similarly, Landicho saw this as an opportunity to make shoes that highlight Filipino craftsmanship, such as using indigenous fabric from the local weavers of Abra and Cordillera. “‘Dun kami tumaya sa quality saka sa design,” she posits.
(We bet on quality and design.)
Heels on cobblestones
As Marikina shoes stand upon a century-old history, the bonafide shoemakers are not getting any younger, and there are often not enough younger hands on deck. For instance, Landicho’s shoe and bag shop only has five regular workers at present. The industry saw a decline in workers, especially during the onslaught of the pandemic, when some opted to work as construction workers or delivery riders.
Marred with economic challenges, some artisans inevitably step away from the craft they’ve been doing for most of their lives. “It’s painful because [the shoemakers] enjoy what they do,” Batulan says. “It’s like telling somebody [that] the thing that you love doing can’t keep you alive anymore.”
Apart from the limited workforce, raw materials have also become less accessible over time. “‘Yung ibang local suppliers dito nawawala na…Pako nga lang eh nawala na ‘yung supplier,” Landicho narrates. She furthers that while available, China-made materials are substandard compared to local supplies, which significantly holds back the efficiency of their production line. “You can’t make the design you want because the materials you want are unavailable,” Landicho adds in Filipino.
(The local suppliers are disappearing. Even the nail suppliers have also disappeared.)
With this, Sta. Ana believes Marikina should strive to efficiently industrialize and mechanize the shoe industry for better pay. There must be a paradigm shift, suggests Batulan, to dissolve the stigma that being a craftsman or a factory worker is a less dignified job. Sta. Ana posits that there is hope for a position where “manufacturers [wouldn’t need] to compromise with minimal profit or [none at all].” This way, the heritable industry could still sustain the livelihood and artistry of its workers.
A pair goes a long way
Despite the challenges brought about by changing times, Marikina shoe houses have found hope in the younger generation. Now, interns from various universities have begun to step foot in the ins and outs of shoemaking. “We need all the enthusiasm and the energy of the new generation to partake in how we can transform this industry as an innovation cluster,” Sta. Ana encourages. True enough, Batulan also optimistically claims that out of the several interns for Zapateria since 2022, half of the students have shown a willingness to pursue a job in the shoe industry.
Progress is also evident within Marikina’s local government unit and in agencies such as the Department of Trade and Industry and the Technical Education and Skills Development Authority, which constantly provide training programs, service facilities, and financial assistance to the shoemakers. “We also participate in seminars to learn how to promote our product,” Landicho says in Filipino. Apart from this, shoemakers are shown rightful appreciation through efforts of the local government to provide healthcare programs and tax leeways for the workers.
As the backbone of the industry, it is crucial to recognize and invest in the labors and talents of these artisans to push the industry beyond its uphill battle so that Marikina-made soles could reach places within and beyond the archipelago. As Batulan probes, “Who is better at accomplishing anything than the people who make the Philippines?”
This article was published in The LaSallian‘s June 2024 issue. To read more, visit bit.ly/TLSJune2024.
