On preparation day we decided to go to Betio Wharf. This is where freight, cargo and large passenger boats dock. The water is this beautiful blue colour and it just makes you want to jump in. It’s the most beautiful sight I’ve ever seen. We spent some time walking around the wharf watching a few kids fish and taking photos on one of the fishing boats. While on our way back to the van I thought it would be cool to climb down this massive rock/concrete formations for a picture right next to the beautiful blue water. My intentions were completely innocent. All I wanted and all I focused on was how awesome the photo would be. I was so determined to get it that I didn’t consider anything else. I began the descent cautiously, making sure not to fall through any of the large cracks. Very carefully I would place my feet here and there, holding onto rocks for support. I was very conscious of the fact that should I fall I would very easily break a bone and more than likely be sent home to recover. This was not what I wanted indeed. Very quickly, but carefully I made it to the bottom of the rocks. I crouched down, waiting for the other missionaries to make the descent. As I was crouching down, trying to get closer to the water I suddenly felt myself slipping. Within a few seconds I felt that my lower body was wet and was in the water. Immediately I scrambled to get hold of the rock that was nearest to me in an effort to pull myself out of the water. I tried to regain my footing but my I kept slipping on the moss that I hadn’t before seen. Panic and fear started to grip me. Desperately I tried but my attempts seemed to be in vain. The fear I felt in that moment was a different type of fear. I didn’t fear falling into the water and drowning for I knew that I was a competent swimmer. What I feared was falling into the water period. I knew that it was against mission rules for missionaries to swim and more than anything I didn’t want to fall into the water completely and have to swim in any way at all. I guess the fear in a way was a fear of sin. My companion and another missionary heard my panic and very quickly made their way down to help me. I managed to regain my footing and with their help I was pulled out of the water. We took the photo but the feeling wasn’t as sweet as I had imagined it would be. My desire to take the photo had all but left me after what had happened. All I wanted was to get up and onto higher ground where safety would be found. I managed to climb back up the rocks and onto solid, non-slippery ground. Relief consumed me. My companion and the other missionary then pointed out that I was bleeding. I looked down at my legs and noticed that I had a few scratches and cuts here and there. I then noticed pain coming from my hands and looked down to see that there were a few scratches also.