Paul Griffin

Marc was one amazing dude, he certainly was an essential part of the crazy tapestry that was ISB in the late 80’s and early 90’s. Who can forget watching him scrimmage with the soccer team in his short-shorts and bare feet. Not only was he a brilliant language teacher, but he was also a talented artist and mathematician. He taught part time in the FARTS Department for a few years when I was chair, I was able to witness first hand his passion for the subject and his rapport with his students. Although he always told me that he wanted to be the one that shot the last tiger on earth, I knew that he was just jerking my chain, and that  deep down he was one compassionate human being. He didn’t go quietly into the night…. 

Like Wadeson, I’m sure he’d want us to live it up lads!

Stephen Castledine

Lillo had one last request it was could he play for the BC football team. We agreed and he came to chiang mai for a tournament. He had bought a new pair of football boots for the game. He was useless in the first half  and at half time he asked if he could play bare foot. I spoke to the ref and their captain and pk yrs. Second half he was incredible and scored. Lillo said it was the greatest moment in his life and would have paralled the feeling of shooting the last tiger on earth. A true legend.

First time I met him at his apartment he was wearing shorts bare chested throwing a knife at a water melon. The only other things in the room a book a chair  a bed and a short wave radio.

Joe Amato - IB Coordinator/Social Studies Teacher, Upper School Zurich International School

If I had you one day in my regiment

The school was encouraging teachers to visit the classes of other teachers.  Kalis and I and others went into Lillo's IB French B class.  Easter was coming up and some girls in the class had given him 10 Easter bunny dolls.  Once he saw us, a grin came to his face and he told the class that he would mutilate the bunnies if they didn't conjugate certain verb correctly.  First an ear and then another and then finally the head while they all shrieked.

Around the time of the dreaded Thai language test, we got a piece of personal stationary from the woman in the office who took care of our passports and immigration matters.  We wrote in her name that his passport had been withdrawn and he would not be able too take the forthcoming Thai test but that he could take the next one in a year.  We (Kalis and I, maybe Harold as well) must have put it on his desk and then sat in the office waiting for him to come in.  He slammed through the door and saw us sitting there grinning, he stopped and said, "If I had you just one day in my regiment, I'd fix you!”

We had a Mexican-Swiss teacher who at one point for no apparent reason stopped talking to me for weeks.  He later fessed up that he had told her that I was masquerading as an Italian American but was really an embarrassed Mexican who pretended not to be able to speak Spanish.  I told some people here at school about this one and they said he must have been horrible.  I said that you had to know him and that I wasn't bothered by it all.

He sent me a picture of himself the year after I left for Japan and on the back wrote, in case you have forgotten what a real man looks like. He would go out at night in Pataya with a Japanese newspaper under his arm in an attempt to meet Japanese girls.

Didn't Kalis send him on a wild goose chase to a variety of hotels where he was to meet a fictional someone who wanted to publish a book of his?

Fred Frazer

What a wonderful and amazing person Marc was. I will never forget the time when Marc did a soccer slide on top of the staff table in the faculty lounge as it broke all the way to the ground.  Shortly there after at the faculty meeting everyone saw it and nobody took the blame.  Marc had that little gleaming in his eye. Rest in peace.

Gary Hamblin

Sometimes, when you live with someone, you get to see a different side of that person. Reading the various anecdotes of the ‘guys’ made me realize, that the 6 months Marc and I shared a house off soi 71, allowed me to see a slightly different Lillo.  After we had a disagreement over a personal matter, just asking me to let him live in my house was I big step. We never looked back. 

On weekend mornings there would be Lillo sunbathing in his underwear. My long time housekeeper thought this was a bit strange even for a farang.  Never had breakfast together. Rarely had dinner together in the house. Often had late lunch, early dinner at the Italian joint on soi 33.  Marc was a vegetarian. Said if you ever smelled burning flesh, you would be too. 

Never brought a “friend” to spend a night. Often communicated through our shoes left at the door. One of his favorite lines was to comment on the size of the extra shoes left at the door. 

Often would see him chatting with the housekeeper in the kitchen. Had a fetish for Blue Mountain coffee.He never drank alcohol. At Geary’s he got down on all fours and howled like a wolf after eating a chocolate infused with cognac.  He never smoked. At Geary’s he got down on all fours and howled like a wolf after taking one hit of some choice Thai weed. I can’t remember which of the 2 previous incidents are true or if both happened. 

Great discussions at my very large dining room table-often with the Bloke present.  Never asked for a ride to school. 

Bought my very, large and old, white Mercedes when I left. Never drove it.  One of the most generous people I’ve ever met. 

9 friends of Geary had dinner at a fancy restaurant. Present: Bloke, Lillo, Marty, Steve and the rest I can’t remember. Many expensive bottles of wine. Lillo never touched a drop. Just smelled the aroma. Total bill or William as Lillo would say $5,000. $500 per person. He paid his equal share without a quibble. One of the most generous people I’ve ever met. 

Claimed he earned money by shooting pool. During a few day stay in Phuket, played pool with Lillo and Geary.  Lillo didn’t know how to hold a cue. The Lillo we all knew from school. 

Swore up and down that Milton Jones was straight. 

I only got to spend one short afternoon with Lillo after I departed ISB in 1992. A quiet lunch on a hotel terrace on the beach in Phuket. I always inquired about his whereabouts whenever I ran into one of the guys. 

Sorry I didn’t run into him again. 6 years we shared a workplace. 6 months we shared a living space. Can’t say I really knew the man. But what I saw I really liked. 

Give’m hell wherever you may be. I’ll always have fond memories of the times we spent together. I’ll always chuckle when your name comes up.  Cheers mate.

Harold Albert

Wonderful stories and funny anecdotes of an unforgettable character.  I remember he always used to kid me by telling me that one of his colleagues in the Language Dept, a Spanish teacher whose name I can't recall, was in love with me. Naturally he'd have this shit-eating grin on his face when he told me.

In my mind's eye I can still see him coaching soccer (girls varsity) barefoot and in his short shorts, and kicking the football down the corridor with the Bloke to see who could kick the most accurately without hitting the wall.

But my most vivid memory is sitting in a small office at the new ISB with Marc and Steve shortly after the infamous Week Without Walls when Steve told us about the incident in Nepal.  I shrugged it off and said it was nothing; Marc told Steve he was going to lose his job......smart man, that Marc Lillo.

Mr. Robb Sloan

Lillo, "The South African Liar", I believe he was called or what he called himself (I'm a bit unsure of the origin of that moniker). Two images come to mind: ( a third was covered already, as he apparently liked to ask about the last tiger as a test of our character).

I was over to Joe and Pam's for something and the two children were not there. Joe said they were next door at Lillo's. Sure enough, when we looked in there was Marc in his underwear, painting at his easel while the kids looked on. All was well in Lillo-land. Another time Marc asked if I played squash. "No, I've played tennis but never squash." " Great, do you want me to teach you?" he said. Well, he got me on the court and proceeded to kick my ass. Once I caught on, it got close and finally I won a game, at which point he said, "that's enough"! He never asked me to play squash again.

He was a unique, wonderful man who enriched the lives of all who got to know him.

Steve Wright

Lillo truly was one of a kind, very sad news indeed…

Allan Morton

Well, it was my first year at ISB on soi 15, so that is my defence. Lillo approached me with a grim and sincere (?) countenance and told me how is honour had been impugned beyond repair, the matter could only be settled by a gentleman's pistol dual, to take place on Pattaya beach, and would I act as his second. F*** me, I fell for it!

So I'm coming out with things like, "I've never actually done this sort of thing before", "I will need to research the rules and etiquette of pistol dueling" and  "Is it legal?". We even discussed the question of which party has the right to choose weapons. Later, I sought advice (in strictest confidence) from Mike Geary and immediately a great big grin appeared on his face. The penny dropped. 

I never believed a word Lillo said from that day on.

October 2019

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Jean Lillo - brother memories

Marc and me were born in Algiers. Marc in 1936 and me in 1940.

At that time our father was a low grade employee at a company dealing with wineries and farm activities. Our father migrated with parents to Algeria from the Spanish region Alicante around the year 1915.

In 1945 the company transferred part of its activities to Orau - 450 km west of Algiers and gave our father thin promotion at the accounting department. Consequently we had to leave Algiers. That year was also when Paul and Jacque were born in Orau. Marc who was then nine years old and myself five, joined the Edgar Quienet school at a working distance from our apartment in Saint Eugine.

That time was the initial moment when Marc showed an intense interest in drawing and surprisingly in English language, probably initiated when the American soldiers celebrated with jubilation their victory on the streets of the town.

Our father perceived with a very limited enthusiasm Marc’s talent, preferring him focused his attention on arithmetics. The repeated attempts to teach Marc fractions and percentage turned out to nightmare of tears and anger. Definitely Marc’s young mind leaded to art and literature quoted by our father as useless subjects: un understandable opinion from who grew in an indigent family where basic survival depends mainly on one’s ability to take heavy burden and accept daily sacrifices.

As the gap of misunderstanding widened between them, Marc turned his interest towards our uncle Gaspard (from our mother side) who despite of being a simple carpenter, had a very independent way of thinking with revolutionary ideas about the leading class privilege and misuse of religion.

No doubt that a new view to an anti-conformist world broadened Marc’s intelligence, opening a bridge between him and our father deeply devoted to capitalism and catholicism.

In 1950’ out grandfather (on the mother side) committed subside. Among others unknown reasons why he decided to end to his life was the hopelessness to provide enough financial response to his wife in need of an expensive medical treatment. Marc, who has a deep tenderness towards him was very much afflicted.

In 1951 our father in reward to his high commitment to the company was chosen to open a new branch of wine products in Paris. In October of the very year we all left Algeria in a memorable travel on board of ship “Le Ville d’Alger” across the Mediterranean sea. For good and forever.

Settling in Paris was a drastic change for our family. Our father fully dedicated his time to his new responsibilities, our mother trying to forget with the daily house work her nostalgia for the Algerian blue skies.

Marc and me as well as Paul and Jacques joined a nearby school. Integration to that new environment was not easy, our schoolmates making fun of our French colonial accent and of our way of dressing.

To Marc that new episode of life, instead of being beneficial, turned out to more instability. His attitude at home became more insolent, and his behaviour at school got bad enough, defying authority, ignoring warnings and braving punishments.

As to his relation with out father, it goes without saying the gap widened between them until the boundary of violence. To add to that home conflict, the Algerian tragedy bursted out on 1st November 1954.

Independence Algerian movements were strongly determined to end with French colonisation, initiating a seven years war going to cost million lives.

At this place of this narration it is necessary to open a short parenthesis regarding the influence Albert Camus literature had on Marc. Albert Camus about born in Algeria, his mother from Spanish origin was a philosopher quoted as rebel always in search of individual freedom and strategy opposed to any kind of oppression, intellectual and anticapitalist. When the Algerian war begun he took openly a stand for better treatment of the Arabs.

Marc had never been involved in any political activity. He was of how Camus talks about absurdity of life. In everything Marc did, it was always a link with art. If Camus did not directly influence Marc, let’s say just comforted his way of thinking. For our father Algeria had to remain French at any cost, too. Kind of the Arabs as a bunch of lazy fellows. Do it’s easy to imagine how he reacted against Marc’s position. Any way and any how Marc was mobilized at the end of 1955 on the Moroccan border with Algeria.

What the school has failed to do the army did not succeed either. Fed with concepts of freedom Marc showed a negative attitude promptly sanctioned by privatims and punishments. Finally facing such a refractory behaviour, Marc was sent back to France, still under the military authority. At his release the French army did not grant him with a certificate of a “good soldier”. Not much a problem to Marc…

At this point of his life Marc had no choice but to leave France where he had no future and as he told me “no roots”. In 1957 he jumped to England into a total uncertainty of what he will do there.

He landed in Berkshire with nothing in hand, starting on the bottom of the social ladder. Himself only should tell how much he had to struggle and suffer to get a University degree and finally be appointed Head of Foreign Languages at prestigious International schools in Africa and South-East Asia.

Marc also married and raised a family. I just had the time to see him happy that was, when I visited him shortly in Reading in 1961. But there also destiny awaited him: heavy discrepancies such as social background, culture, personality and artistic sense between him and his wife led them to separation few years after they marry. Let’s now make a short cut to reach the last episode.

In the 70’s our brothers Paul and Jacques began to show the first psychiatric disorders. It is useless to get lost in the details of this new tragedy. I just want to mention how much love and energy Marc had deployed to try to stop that devilish process, during almost thirty years. But in vain. After countless hospitalisations Jacques passed away in the south of France in 2011 and Paul is still under mental treatment.

When Marc was hospitalised last year I asked him: “Do you want to talk to Paul?” “Sorry, Jean, - he said - I already given too much. I have nothing else to tell him”. Few days before Marc passed away, he took my hand and told me: “Hurry to live your life now Jean”.

Jean Lillo July 2018

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PS. In 1979 Marc punctured a pebble found on a Devon beach with his own hands using a sharp piece of flint . That work was completed in 6 to 7 hours. The estimated number of strokes is 10,000. He wanted to demonstrate that through patience that work was communly done during prehistorical ages.

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Марко Лилло – воспоминания о светлом человеке. Для меня Марко был прежде всего Учителем. Причем не только английского языка, с уроков которого формально началось наше знакомство – у него можно было учиться очень и очень многому.

Даже сами обстоятельства, при которых начались наши с ним встречи, на мой взгляд, многое говорят он нем, как о человеке с большим сердцем и верой в своих учеников. Случилось так, что в одно время я решил изучить английский язык (практически с нуля) и искал репетитора или человека, который мог бы помочь мне в этом. Узнав о Марко через общих знакомых и его супругу Ольгу, я попросил его взять меня в ученики. Марко, в очередной раз в своей жизни, взялся за помощь незнакомому человеку, который мало того, что из другого города, а значит занятия будут не постоянными, так и вдобавок ко всему практически не знает языка (у меня лишь был небольшой словарный запас английских слов при том, что я не знал даже как их произносить). Он поверил в ненапрасность своих усилий, в меня, человека, которого совсем не знал, по сути – поверил в лучшее, что есть в каждом. Я уверен, объяснение этому простое – Марко сам был очень светлым и добрым человеком, также он судил и о других людях.

Каждая наша следующая встреча, каждое занятие неизменно укрепляла меня в этом мнении. Говоря о Марко, как об Учителе можно назвать многое, чему у него можно и нужно было поучиться, например он был очень ответственный и обстоятельный – это касалось всего, что он делал. К нашим занятиям он готовился очень серьезно, к каждой нашей встрече у него было заготовлено много различной информации (я уверен, что он часто тратил куда больше времени на подготовку к нашим занятиям, чем я сам)– текстов, статей, им придуманных ситуаций и диалогов и, конечно же, иллюстраций. Обстоятельность его проявлялась и в его творчестве – многие из его произведений были не раз переписаны и переделаны до того, как Марко счёл их близкими к совершенству.

Если бы чувству юмора можно было бы научить, то Марко, я уверен, стал бы основателем и ректором первой в мире Международной академии юмора. Вот уж где он чувствовал себя как рыба в воде. Его постоянные шутки, каламбуры, тонкие пикировки, его смех – это никого не могло оставить равнодушным. Часто на первых порах, когда я был совсем слаб в английском, я смеялся просто с его подачи шутки, мало или даже совсем не понимая её сути.

В части изобретательности, выдумки и находчивости Марко не просто подавал пример – он этого прямо-таки «требовал» этого от окружающих. Его материалы к занятиям чуть более чем полностью были смоделированы им самим. Реальная история, пусть даже рассказанная идеально с точки зрения грамматики и произношения в глазах Марко уступала истории придуманной, пусть и изложенной с огрехами.

Сотни ситуаций из своей жизни, рассказанных Марко, большинства из которых не было в реальности, постоянный поиск импровизаций, игры в «верю-не верю» (когда рассказчик говорит историю, а остальные должны угадать была ли она в действительности, либо выдумана) – все это было неотъемлемой частью как его преподавательской методики, так и в целом его самого. Поиск импровизаций, его постоянное стремление к необычному и новому получили отображение и в творчестве Марко – его картинах и инсталляциях, которые высоко оценены профессионалами. При всем, Марко был очень тонким и чувствительным человеком – он каждый раз с болью в душе обсуждал и переживал события, в которых страдали люди, где бы и с кем бы в мире они не происходили. Человеколюбию у Марко также можно было учиться. Есть еще очень много качеств, которые отличали Марко и которые приходят на ум, вспоминая его. Это оптимизм и тактичность, образованность и культурность, все то, что отличает интеллигентного человека и многое-многое другое, всего не перечислишь.

Отдельно хотел бы написать об Ольге и выразить ей слова благодарности от себя, как от ученика Марко. Ведь на первых порах и довольно долго я не мог обходиться без её помощи, Ольга выступала в роли переводчика и посредника в нашем с Марко общении. При этом опять же – Марко старался проводить наши встречи так, чтобы и Ольга была вовлечена по-максимуму, узнавала что-то новое, полезное и интересное для себя. Искренняя благодарность Ольге как музе и спутнице жизни Марко, которая его любила, поддерживала, помогала во всех начинаниях, благодаря которой он узнал и полюбил Беларусь. Без её помощи, Марко возможно было бы трудно раскрыться как художнику и творческому человеку. Спасибо, вам, Ольга!

Марко среди нас и постоянно с нами. В его творчестве, историях, шутках... Марко всегда в нашей памяти.

Олег Карпенко Dec 2018