Asian Journal- The Filipino-American Community Newspaper

At the far end where the road turns to Abad Santos, the statue of Bonifacio stands in front of the Mall Tutuban, which in the 90s turned the station into a heritage and commercial site that remembers Tutuban as a prime trading point of the yesteryears, and as a place where the enterprising Katipunan founder was said to have sold abanikos and bastons.

The store of that afternoon’s guide, Analine Ang, had been in the Yangco Market for 15 years in the legendary Tabora Street of Divisoria. She says her own family business is a bakery in Laguna, but when she married, she was introduced to the world of Divisoria, where her husband had been trading.

"So much had changed here," Analine says, while we walked down the already busy and crowded Juan Luna, from the coffee shop where we decided to meet. I came in early, as usual, and before I was to walk Divisoria, I was welcomed by the hustle and bustle of the busy streets of the Binondo business district. History reminds us that this area was the parian where the Chinese settled, and were closely watched by the guardia civils at Intramuros during the colonial period.

They were never obliterated, of course, and a lot of them have climbed up the economic ladder. We can just imagine that some have probably started in the district attached to the parian, its alter ego, Divisoria, have sold dinner wares, kalderos or tampipis before becoming CEOs and taipans.

Analine was just one of the many younger Chinese who, for generations, still keep the trading tradition in Tabora.

I have learned one thing about Divisoria that afternoon of endless walking, treading pasilyos and learning how not to get run over by pedicabs and karitons. There is no geography in Divisoria.

While you are in, you just actually have to find your way. But Analine is of course a habitué and she knows the place too well. Dressed in a very bright summer orange dress, Analine confidently walked through the streets like a professional shopaholic.

Tabora had been a great place to go to, I realized later on. I was a big boy, and had a hard time buying pants. The size 40s were usually found somewhere in Yangco Market, in Tabora, where Analine and I turned after the trip down Juan Luna. As expected, I just followed her, and recognized all of a sudden, the store where my pants were usually purchased. But I wasn’t too sure; all the shops look alike anyway, and we just continued walking, criss-crossing the alleys at times.

After a few more turns, and a quick stop at Analine’s own store where her husband was waiting, we walked a little further to talk to one of Yangco Market’s old-timers, Susan Dy. Her store, which sold shirts, bed sheets and even scarves, was enjoying a usual lazy day. She warmly welcomed us inside. Susan’s face lit up when she recalled her own touching Divisoria story.

Back in 1968, at the heydays of Divisoria, Susan started out as a helper in Tabora. "I was underage, and I had to keep my real age. Else, I won’t be able to help my family." Her father had just passed away then and being the responsible breadwinner that she is, she took charge. Their own family helper helped her find and land a job in Divisoria, where she fixed up textiles and other wares.

At 14 back then, she worked hard and earned the trust of her own amo, whom she herself helped pay some debts and recover the business.

"I remember Divisoria as a very filthy one, there’s a lot of trash, and there’s just a lot of shoppers," she says.

But things have changed in Divisoria, she tells us and the hard times are very much felt. However, the wise businesswoman that she is has endured, and it is probably not surprising that her own store was named "The Legend."

After our talk with Susan, we turned to another pasilyo where we were led to Carmen Planas Street, Divisoria’s fruit center. A quick tour of the place brought us to crates of oranges, apples and kiat-kiat, the small ponkans, which have become quite popular in town recently. The scent was sweet and it brought a refreshing change in our Divisoria wind.

Analine and I again continued walking through the remaining alleys of Yangco. At the far end, there was a big door that opens to a colorful imagery of people walking, telas being unrolled and displays of plastic flowers and home ornaments. I have lost touch of where we have gone, and which ways we have turned to, and I felt I was being transported to another world again.

Ylaya has such a wonderful gamut of things and, I think, is the most colorful among the side streets of the real Divisoria. Aside from kitchenware, underwear and shirts that are sold at three-for-one hundred, Ylaya too is known for its party souvenirs and handicrafts. Ylaya’s stores, aside from the sidewalk features, are the destinations for parties. At Yangco Market meanwhile, you will easily see that once the stores reach Ylaya, gowns and suits start to get more prominent than telas or apparel. I can imagine that people who are in a hurry—to get married, perhaps—just come here and pick up a dress. Before this walk with Analine, I have long heard of stories from other vendors—some of them from Tutuban—who had encountered runaway brides picking dresses, and having a hard time fitting them because of the growing bulge in their tummies. These are just some of the quiet stories the alleys keep. There’s probably more where they come from.