In Europe and north America, if Xiomara Castro de Zelaya is known at all, it is as the wife of Mel Zelaya, the charismatic left-wing president of Honduras who was overthrown in the 2009 military coup and expelled from the country.

Yet inside Honduras, Xiomara has carved out her own role as a leader of the resistance movement and presidential candidate for the new Libre party.

She is hated by the right wing for standing up to the oligarchy, as much as she is admired and respected by the working class and poor.

My one and only meeting with Xiomara did not occur in the presidential palace, nor did it involve the social formalities one would expect when being received by a first lady.

Instead it took place on the open road, involved a big hug, and was witnessed by soldiers who had guns aimed at our faces.

The precise date was July 24 2009. Mel Zelaya was attempting to cross the Nicaraguan border and re-enter Honduras to take up his rightful position as president.

I had joined a convoy of the president's supporters who were travelling towards the border in the hope of securing his safe return.

Before long, we ground to a halt in front of a military road block and it was there that I spotted Xiomara Castro.

She was dressed informally in a pair of blue denim jeans and a blouse, and looked more like a middle-class mother doing the school run than the wife of a president.

Perched atop her head was one of her husband's trademark cowboy hats, which had become a symbol of resistance to the coup.

I asked Xiomara how she intended to reach the border and she replied that the military had no authority to prevent citizens from moving freely about their own country.

Then in an act of extraordinary courage, she began to walk towards the line of soldiers, her head held high, her voice quivering ever so slightly.

As we reached the line of soldiers, they hesitated and then fanned out across the road, allowing us through.

And so this battle of nerves continued, roadblock after roadblock.

On each occasion the convoy dared the army to shoot, and each time they declined to do so, possibly disobeying orders.

In this manner, we inched closer and closer to the border, buoyed by the support of local peasant families who cheered and applauded as we passed.

But just when it looked like we were going to reach our intended destination, the situation took a terrifying turn.

Our convoy was joined by two truckloads of hooded gunmen, and I spotted snipers moving about on the hillside above.

It was obvious that there would be a massacre if we attempted to continue, and I concluded the interview crouched down behind the improvised shield of the first lady's car.

Then I gave her a hug, which at the time seemed like the most natural thing in the world.

The following day the mutilated body of a resistance supporter was found dumped 400 yards from the roadblock. I believe it was left as a warning.

The Honduran oligarchy describe Xiomara Castro as a puppet of her husband and of Venezuela and Cuba, and bemoan her political inexperience.

The oligarchy are certainly experienced at assassinations, torture and intimidation, but they have no experience of addressing the concerns of a population scarred by illiteracy, malnutrition and the world's highest murder rate.

The Xiomara I met on that sunny day in 2009 may well have been a novice who had never held high political office.

But in the months and years since, she has helped cement the alliance of trade unions and social movements into the new Libre party, and ceaselessly campaigned for a constituent assembly to rewrite the constitution.

That is why they fear her. Win or lose in this most unfree and unfair of elections, Xiomara Castro will doubtless soldier on for many years to come.