PHOTO ESSAY: The Last Maquina

They don’t make “sangkaka” anymore in Iriga City. It’s laborious, less profitable, and this generation is no longer interested in continuing the traditional process.

At the Amorsito farm outside the city, Manoy Berto resurrects what could be the last sugarcane crusher.

Camarines Sur used to be the only province in the Bicol Region with a commercial sugarcane-growing area, making it an important belt for producing traditional products like sangkaka.

Owned by Nacario family, the machine was acquired long ago all the way from the sugarcane-producing province of Tarlac.

Making sangkaka was part of everyday life. Families harvest sugarcane, squeezed out the juice, and slowly cooked it for hours over fire until it became the thick and sweet sangkaka used in traditional Filipino delicacies.

Today, however, producing the unrefined sweetener has become much less common as sugarcane production has declined in years due to a variety of factors which include pests, prolonged drought, fields giving way to developments, or farms being replaced by other crops where farmers decide to grow other easier or more profitable vegetation.

Beyond that, making sangkaka also takes a lot of time and hard work, which does not appeal to the “swipe and scroll generation.”

Sugarcane production is declining in Bicol. Some fields gave way to other uses.

The Nacario family of Iriga City, continues to preserve a piece of Bicol’s sugarcane heritage through their Amorsito farm, where they operate a traditional sugarcane-crushing machine locally known to oldtimers as the maquina.

Acquired in 2009 from faraway sugarcane-producing province of Tarlac, the diesel-powered machine became an important part of their sangkaka-making process, helping extract sugarcane juice that is slowly boiled into the traditional sweet delicacy.

More than just an equipment, the maquina represents the family’s commitment to keeping alive a fading craft and livelihood that connects generations of farmers, makers, and the cultural history of Iriga.

Manoy Kokoy, adjutant to Berto, cleanses a cylinder to be used in the cooking process. “Kailangan may katulong sya (Berto) palagi sa pag ano ng makina.”
Manoy Kokoy has seven children. One took off to the Middle East as an OFW — without him knowing.

Manoys Kokoy and Berto, despite being in their 60s, remain indispensable to the Nacario family’s sangkaka-making tradition. The two longtime farm hands still handle the demanding work from harvesting the sugarcane to molding the sangkaka into the coconut shell. Both are compensated with half a share of the total sangkaka produced.

For 4 hours, sugarcane extract is boiled in a kawa fueled by its bagasse.
4 hours. To be stirred non-stop. No shortcuts.
The farm sits deep in Barangay Sagrada, in what used to be an insurgency-affected area, says Kokoy.
Sugarcane juice turns to thick caramel-like syrup
Keepers of the craft. Manoys Kokoy and Berto’s tandem will probably be the last faithful workhorse of sangkaka in Iriga. The last “maquina.”
Matamis sa bao
At 100 pesos each, Manoy Kokoy packs the sangkaka in the old traditional way

In a whole day of processing, the family was able to produce around 30 half “bao” of sangkaka. At ₱100 per bao, the batch could bring in about ₱3,000 in sales. However, behind this amount is a long and costly process. From growing the sugarcane, to labor and diesel cost, and other miscellaneous.

After all expenses are accounted for, the earnings leave only a small profit, indicative of the difficult economics behind preserving this traditional craft.

Although sangkaka processing is slowly becoming rare, it remains an important part of the culture and history of Camarines Sur. By passing the heritage, teaching the younger generation, and supporting local farmers and artisans, communities can help keep this sweet tradition alive for future generations.

(Text and photos by Elmer Nev C. Valenzuela)

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