Marikina shoemakers hold on to legacy. Will they find allies in new leaders?

“Sa silong-silong lang” is how Marikeños would describe the old days of shoemaking, when family members would gather under the shaded part of their homes and make shoes.

Underneath houses were shoemakers busy behind sewing machines, firmly pressing the shoe upper to the outsole. This is the sight that Myra Manabat, now 48, grew up with, memories she shared with her mother.

“She sewed and repaired shoes,” she said. “That’s how we learned.”

Manabat got married but lost her husband early. For almost 10 years she made footwear as a subcontracted artisan for a direct selling company, earning P3 per pair of slippers. Many nights were spent meeting quotas.

She now works at a workshop in Kalumpang owned by Markus Babela, who was born and raised in Mindoro. Her hours are fixed. Because of shoemaking, she was able to put her two daughters through college.

Under the bright, fluorescent lamp, she deftly hammered down on a piece of leather and made holes where the stitches would pass through. In front of her were Imelda Mariano, 71, and Lourdes Obora, 53, who shared a table. They are the shop’s areglos who prepare the leather for stitching.

When trade liberalization opened the country to cheaper footwear from China during the administration of Fidel V. Ramos, Manabat said, the shoemaking industry in Marikina faltered. Incidentally, it was also during Ramos’ time that Marikina became a city.

This is a common story of Marikeños. What does a smattering of local artisans stand against the rising tide of globalization then?

For Manabat, the solution lies in aiding Marikina artisans. “Empower shoemakers. Help shops rise again.”

The 48-year-old shoemaker said she hopes the local industry returns to its glory days when they were getting orders “by the thousands.”

For this election, Manabat has made up her mind on who she would vote for in her district. But time passes by fast, she said. And the next thing you know, it’s election season once again.

“Let’s just replace them if their leadership is not okay,” she said.

Since 1887

Marikina sits between Quezon City and areas of Rizal. While part of the metropolis, its pockets of open spaces, iconic riverbank, and old houses call to mind the airy spaces of more rural areas. It’s a city that can be toured by riding a bike.

Marikina attributes its shoemaking heritage to Don Laureano Guevarra, also known as Kapitan Moy. His house, along JP Rizal Street near the river, is a landmark in the city.

Locals mark 1887 as an important year when shoemaking began to thrive in Marikina, nearly 400 years after Augustinians arrived in the valley and more than 200 years after the Jesuits came and built a chapel.

Nowadays, shoemakers don’t gather in silongs anymore. They don’t make and sell shoes on their own but work in shops scattered across Marikina.

“We were very disappointed with the past administrations because they were not able to revive the industry,” Jun Salvador, president of the Philippine Chamber of Commerce and Industry’s (PCCI) Marikina chapter, told Rappler.

According to Salvador, around 200 shoe manufacturers and retailers are registered in Marikina as of March 31, 2025.

It was an entirely different picture decades ago. In 1956, Marikina was dubbed the Shoe Capital of the Philippines. The city government started to organize trade fairs in the ‘60s as support for local artisans.

Under then-mayor Osmundo de Guzman, the Marikina Shoe Trade Commission was established in 1967. The commission worked to promote the locally-made shoes and then market them nationwide and in the international market.

That time, the industry was considered resuscitated from slow death.

“It still has other problems, but the Marikina shoe industry without doubt provides the most striking example of how a fledgling industry thriving in backyards and residential basements can be turned into a highly productive enterprise that gives a substantial contribution to the nation’s economy,” read a story that ran in The Republic magazine in 1973.

In the 1980s, there were as many as 1,350 registered shoe manufacturers in the city, according to a study by economist Joel Tanchuco. At that time, 300,000 workers were employed in the industry and the city sourced 65% of its revenues from shoemaking.

Things took a different turn when imported shoes from China started coming in. Shoemakers began losing work and the number of shoe manufacturers dwindled starting in the ‘90s.

“All in all, the competitive prognosis for the Marikina footwear cluster is bleak, because low cost competitor countries have favorable scale economies supported by much foreign investment,” the study read.

The form of a shoe

Despite what shoemakers and shop owners describe as the city’s stagnant shoemaking industry, Marikina still remains very much tied to the image of shoes.

A giant heeled shoe once floated on a barge along the Marikina River. A team of shoemakers made a pair of giant Oxfords to bag the Guinness World Record in 2002. A part of former first lady Imelda Marcos’ infamous shoe collection found a home at the Shoe Museum, a stone’s throw away from Kapitan Moy’s residence.

An icon, the shoe naturally finds its way to political campaigns.

“This Libreng Sapatos (Free Shoes) program is hitting two birds with one stone,” Kathryn Yu-Pimentel, wife of Senator Koko Pimentel, said back in May 2024. “We’re giving smiles to students and helping shoemakers of our beloved city.”

Pimentel donated P1 million to the Philippine Footwear Federation Incorporated for this program which gave away shoes to top students across District 1.

At the end of the promotional video, a tagline appears: “KATuwang ‘nyo Palagi.” But instead of Kathryn, her husband is running against Mayor Marcelino “Marcy” Teodoro for congressman of the 1st District.

Under Teodoro’s term as mayor, he exempted shoe manufacturers and retailers from paying rental fees in the annual Christmas shoe festival. In 2019, there had been reports of a soon-to-rise shoemaking school under Teodoro’s leadership.

Meanwhile, Marikina 2nd District Representative Stella Quimbo attempted to reinvigorate national support for the footwear industry by filing a bill that updates the footwear industry development law enacted in 2004. The bill has been pending at the committee level since 2022.

Just this April, Pimentel filed a bill in the Senate to establish shoe hubs across the country.

Pimentel is running under Quimbo’s Team Bagong Marikina, while the Teodoros are under the Team Marikina City banner.

Former House deputy speaker Miro Quimbo, who is running for 2nd District congressman, looks forward to an easy win in a race with virtually no opponent. It’s a different story in District 1, where Pimentel and Marcy Teodoro fight head to head.

“Whatever promise they say, the action taken is not as promised,” PCCI Marikina’s Salvador said. “No one who took office really prioritized shoemaking,” Salvador added, emphasizing the need for continuity and of making the business lucrative for the youth.

Made in Marikina

Displayed outside houses are pink and blue posters bearing the images of candidates with picture-perfect smiles.

Elections in Marikina had been traditionally quiet in the past, Roweliza Landicho, a third-generation shoemaker from District 1, told Rappler. But not this time.

Just days before the local campaign period kickoff, the Office of the Ombudsman ordered the suspension of Teodoro and other city officials over the alleged misallocation of P130 million worth of PhilHealth funds.

The incumbent mayor also faces a disqualification case before the Commission on Elections over residency issues. Residency, place of origin, kin — all important matters for Marikeños.

“Made in Marikina” is not only a distinction for shoes, but for manufacturers and retailers, as well as aspiring local officials. More than 300,000 registered voters in the city are expected to cast their votes on May 12.

The question of roots persists even in the campaign season. A recent repost from Kathryn Pimentel (herself the niece of former Marikina mayor De Guzman) says, “Hindi dayo: Malalim ang ugat ni Koko Pimentel sa Marikina.” (Not an outsider: Koko Pimentel has deep roots in Marikina.)

Marikeños are a people attuned to their kindred relations and roots. Every year they celebrate the feast of clans (angkan).

The shoemaking business, for one, started as a family affair, a tradition passed down to children — as was the case for Landicho. They have their showroom and shop along Santa Ana, where outside, a banaba tree is in bloom. She is renting out the second and third floors of their building — all previously occupied by their shoe business operations.

Landicho has been around long enough to know that whoever is in government, support for the shoemakers had not been nearly enough.

“Sapat lang (Just enough),” Landicho, 56, would say. Online sellers have kept their business alive. Shops on TikTok, sellers going live, Instagram shoe brands that cater to a niche market mindful of sustainable consumption.

All these, Landicho finds confusing. But she continues to run the business in the same manner that Manabat and her fellow sapateros continue to make shoes in the Kalumpang workshop. Their hands familiar with the feel of leather, impeccable stitching, the form of a well-made shoe.

They can only hope that whoever sits in city hall would prioritize the industry, which for a long time, has been at a crossroads.

The old days in Marikina are over. What’s next? – Rappler.com

Quotes translated to English for brevity.