21/12/2016
Whenever shoes are talked about, the word “Marikina” is always a staple currency. Whether its sports footwear, formal, or just plain casual shoes, the humble city is always either suggested or plugged into the conversation. Its popularity even reaches our grandparents’ memories.
But regardless of its popularity or impact to the economy in the country, little do many know that the shoe-making industry is still fitting its perfect pair of shoes before it eventually runs.
“Dati silong-silong lang. Dati ganun lang ang Marikina. Dun nagpapagawa ng sapatos," Rosita Padayao, former owner of Kim Rose Shoes, recalls from memory.
The mother of six now lets her 23-year old son Kenneth manage the family business only under a new name, Padz Shuz, after a crisis back in 2012. Kenneth was one of the youngest entrepreneurs and shoe-makers way back after he decided to join the industry over finishing college. He wanted to finish his education, but tuition fees skyrocketed, pushing him to instead continue the family business.
In order to keep production profitable, they needed to shave down the labor force. “Ang tao namin noon more than 100. Marami. Kung baga, different departments; merong division of labor,” she said.
Despite being a giant in the domestic shoe industry, Marikina is still fueled by small-scale business owners like Rosita and Kenneth who rely mainly on their own capital and confidence from their trusted customers. After a shoe is made, their makers are forgotten whenever its label is replaced by a reseller or outlet.
“Hindi na lumalabas name namin [shoe-makers]. Kung sino umorder, kanila na yung box, yung shoe.” She said.
Although steps are made by the local government such as providing seminars on shoe-making and starting a business, the true dilemma starts with what lays in front of a shoe buyer.
Jun Maputi, a shoe-maker for 20 years, says the industry doesn’t receive much attention from the government ever since he started out.
“Bumagsak [ang shoe industry] noong 2000. Merong mga bumabalik [ngayon] pero hirap kasi… kailangan talaga dito, itigil ang pag-smuggle mula sa China, na kakompitensya ng Marikina shoes,” he said.
He also owns a shoe shop where he teaches and passes down his craft to the younger generation. Unlike the seminars conducted by the local government and vocational courses offered, his are more hands on.
“Nagte-training ako ng tao. Maliit lang na bahay. 20 kami nandun. Meron akong tinuturuan [at sila yung] mga hindi nakapag-high school,” he said.
“Ang kailangan dito itigil yung mga smuggle. Mga fake na galing sa China at iba't ibang bansa. Sa totoo niyan, ang mga na-smuggle, Starex, luxury car, na declared synthetic na sapatos, pero ang nasa loob, sasakyan," Maputi adds.
"Kaya mabigat ang kumpitensya, basta maibenta ang Starex, yun ang nangyari, kaya ang mga Marikina, bumagsak,” he explains.
Marikina supplies nearly 50% of shoes we find in malls and outlets. But with smuggling, that share can go down to 20%, replacing local shoes with imports from around the world.
Sold alongside Marikina local leather shoes, knock-off imports are presented in bulk and given at a lower price.
However, being in the industry for many years, Rosita is still confident in Marikina shoes. “Bina-bargain [nila] P100-150, di namin kaya ibigay. Pero natutuwa kami ngayon na naa-appreciate nila yung made in Marikina over China shoes. Bumabalik trust nila dito sa Marikina,” she said.
To keep things interesting on the shelf, designs are revisited and flared up. Kenneth explains how the Casual, Top-sider, and Boots styles are all encores and redesigns of the classic 20th-century shoes. “Nagugulat pa rin sila may mga ganung style kaya napapabili sila. Yung trend naman paulit-ulit lang yan. Kung ano yung lumabas, konting flaring lang and adjustment sa kulay."
Even Jun is hopeful, despite all the obstacles he sees that hinder the industry’s growth. “Bumabalik siya [Marikina shoe industry] ngayon, para sa akin. Malakas loob ko mangutang kasi alam kong may pambayad ako sa isang taon,” he said, knowing his capital would return after his sure sales.
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A photo essay contribution by Gabriel Sante from J123 Photojournalism class under Sir Jimmy Domingo.