‘If you ask a hundred people what this means to them, everyone will say something different to you,’ said Sheikh Suleiman as he pushed my aunt’s wheelchair. Born in Uganda and educated in Medina, our guide for the Hajj was a tall, handsome man with a warm smile. When he walked, it was with the kind of grace and dignity I had seen earlier in the stride of tall Nigerians and in the shuffle of older Yemenis as they circled the Kaaba. Our group of six Hajjis – two in wheelchairs – were the second group the Sheikh had led through theumrahrituals that day, each one taking nearly four hours. It was a wonderful privilege to have him all to ourselves, and now, as we headed out of the world’s largest mosque, he wanted to know what the Hajj meant to me.