language ’ s inadequacy to correspond with a referent , but also speak of the impossible task of reading another person ’ s pain . We see this again when Gourevitch contemplates the way one of the dead bodies was framed : “ half agony , half repose .” However , an explanation for these contradictory readings can be found in Fifield , who observed that “ the inability to say anything definitive about another person ’ s pain ” is , in fact , “ a property of pain .” Unsurprisingly , this becomes an even greater challenge as the number of people in pain increases . Contemplating the horrors he witnessed at Kibeho , Alexandre , the Greek UN worker , remarked that “ It was unreal . Only looking at my photographs afterwards – then it became real .” This echoes Sontag ’ s remarks about how a catastrophe “ becomes real … by being photographed ”, but for those who actually witnessed the event it “ will often seem eerily like a representation .” But photography ( like verbal or written language ) is also a representation , which in principle suggests that it too is incapable of adequately communicating anything other than itself .
And yet , while Gourevitch does acknowledge the shortcomings of reading and presenting the pain of others , his justification for reporting on the horrors was framed in oddly personal terms : “… ignoring [ the atrocities ] makes me more uncomfortable about existence and my place in it .” However , this only serves to make matters more complex . Gourevitch has not only placed himself at the centre of this narrative , but in portraying the pain and experiences of black Africans through English with references to Western culture he moves increasingly further from those experiences . There are both historic and contemporary reasons for why this happens . Said ’ s