"Vote Princess for SUG 010!"

What was Princess doing contesting for SUG 010 when examinations were just around the corner?

Well, that was me. Campaigning, moving around campus, asking people to vote for me, and trying to make every campaign moment count.

My first examination was scheduled for Monday. The election was on Friday.

Just three days before I was expected to sit in an examination hall and put everything I had studied to work, I was out campaigning for a leadership position.

And if you think that was the most exhausting part of the experience, wait until I tell you the rest.

I was physically drained. My eyes looked tired, almost faint. I was dealing with migraines, and my body was beginning to show just how much the entire process was taking out of me. I was becoming noticeably leaner, and the little energy I had seemed to disappear with each passing day.

There were people to meet, votes to solicit, campaign activities to attend and grounds to cover. Sometimes, even at about 7 p.m., I was still walking around campus with some guys, a loudspeaker announcing my candidacy and our voices filling the evening air.

"Vote Princess for SUG 010!"

Over and over again.

You know that feeling when you're physically exhausted, but you still have something important to do? When your body is practically begging you to slow down, but you keep pushing because you know there's a goal ahead of you?

That was where I was.

But beyond the physical exhaustion, there were other things I was beginning to encounter.

For some people, my candidacy seemed to invite conversations that had very little to do with what I could offer.

My body became a subject of discussion.

I was petite, and apparently, that was something people found particularly interesting. There were comments about my weight, laughter about how small I was, and comparisons between my physical appearance and that of my competitors.

Some questions were asked in ways that made you wonder whether people were genuinely interested in your capacity to lead or simply looking for something to laugh about.

I remember thinking about how interesting it was that a conversation about a leadership position could quickly become a conversation about someone's body.

I was putting myself forward for an office. I had things I wanted to contribute. I had reasons for contesting. I had a vision of what I wanted to do.

Yet, somehow, my petite frame had become part of the campaign discussion.

And then there was friendship.

Or I should say, what I thought friendship was at the time.

And I don't mean just any friend. I mean someone I considered close to my heart. Someone I regarded as one of my best pals. Someone whose presence in my life made me believe I had a certain level of support around me.

So, imagine my surprise when I found out that this same person had been saying things about me to other people. Some of the people she spoke to were leaders within SUG.

I didn't find out through rumours floating around campus. One of the people she had spoken to eventually came to tell me what she had been saying.

Apparently, I was incompetent. I didn't know enough. I couldn't win. I wasn't capable of handling the position.

There were several negative things being said about my candidacy, and I remember how strange it felt hearing all of this about myself, especially from someone I considered close.

What made it even more difficult to process was that this wasn't someone who had openly distanced herself from my campaign. She still showed up.

Although she was often late to campaign activities, she would eventually appear at the campaign ground, raise her voice and join in asking people to vote for me.

And I kept thinking about that contradiction.

How do you stand beside someone publicly, campaign for them, raise your voice in their support, and yet privately tell other people that they are incompetent and incapable of succeeding?

How do those two versions of support exist in the same person?

I found myself having to reconcile the person I thought I knew with the things I had now heard about her.

It was an uncomfortable discovery, particularly because I hadn't expected to question the sincerity of someone I considered a friend while I was already dealing with the demands of an election and approaching examinations.

There was already enough happening.

I was trying to get people to believe in my candidacy, trying to manage my energy, trying to prepare for my papers and still show up for campaign activities. I didn't anticipate having to process the possibility that someone within my own circle was presenting a different version of me to people when I wasn't there.

That was one of the strangest parts of the entire experience..

I learnt that public presence and private conviction are not always the same thing.

Someone can stand beside you in a photograph, show up at your campaign ground, chant your name and still have an entirely different opinion of your ability when you're not in the room.

Looking back, that campaign period gave me quite a lot to think about. About ambition, about how people perceive others, about friendship and about the different ways support can present itself.

I went into that election hoping to secure a leadership position. I came out of the experience with a few more questions about people and the relationships we build with them.

And all of this was happening while I was preparing for an examination scheduled for the following Monday.

Omo. What a time!

ODD REALITIES is a 12-part collection of lived experiences drawn from my four-year university journey, documenting some of the strangest, most unexpected and uncomfortable experiences I encountered.