At the heart of Jenni Wolfson’s telling of her time in post-genocide Rwanda, she picks up a camera, points it around the auditorium and flashes off pictures. Behind her, with each flash, a different picture of freshly dead and mutilated bodies appears on a screen.

The whole of the rest of the piece is not so much about Wolfson’s background, her Jewish Glaswegian family, her time working for the UN in Rwanda, or even what living in a nightmare war zone is really like. It is a vindication and route to and from the showing of those handful of photographs.

These are real photographs. Ones which Wolfson took herself in her job for the UN. And while this is very much in danger of being no more than an illustrated lecture, her directors Jen Nails and Keiran McLoughlin have succeeded in helping her bring a real theatricality to that telling.

It still needs more work - the eponymous rash that broke out under her eye when she first went to Rwanda, used as a metaphor for the level of her involvement in human rights, doesn’t quite sit comfortably yet. But she does succeed in creating an understanding of the enormity of what happened in Rwanda.