A plaque on the wall at Greenville’s Ronald McDonald House depicts a courageous little girl who lost her legs in the Iraq war.

She stayed at the nonprofit while undergoing medical care in Upstate South Carolina years ago. And though she returned to her home country, that little girl, Salee Allawi, is now 27, married, and back in the Upstate. 

Stopping by the House to show her husband, Abed, the place where she spent so much time as a child, she brushed tears from her eyes when she saw the plaque featuring her beaming face.

“She made such an impact here,” said Marti Spencer, executive director of Ronald McDonald House, explaining why the plaque remains after more than a decade.

“You have this little girl who is having to face this catastrophic injury and losing family members in the process. That’s a lot for a child to have to face,” she added. “But we have to remember what gives us inspiration. And passing by her picture, it is something you don’t give up on.”

Salee first came to the U.S. in 2007. And after surgery on her legs at the Shriners Hospital for Children in Greenville, she was fitted with prosthetic limbs in hopes of giving her a better life. 

Over the years as she grew, new prosthetics became necessary. So, she returned in 2009, 2011, and 2013 for more care. 

It was all made possible by No More Victims, a group launched in 2002 to bring children injured in the Iraq War to the U.S. for free medical treatment.

“It was a grassroots effort,” said Cole Miller, the group’s founder. “People contacted me who wanted to help a child. We’d arrange for pro bono medical care and then I’d fly over there, help them through the visa process, and then fly with them back to the community for care.”

Among the people who wanted to help was an Anderson, South Carolina, resident who would later become his wife, Ann. And after she helped another child, he sent her information about Salee, who’d lost her legs in a missile strike, he said. 

“In 2006, I got an email from people in Iraq, and I saw a picture of (Salee) with her legs freshly destroyed,” he recalls. “I sent Salee’s medical report to Ann, and she and a friend, Selena Franks, set about contacting the Shriners Hospital in Greenville to see if they would provide her care.” 

Once the hospital agreed, Miller flew to Amman, Jordan, in 2007 to meet the 9-year-old and her father and escort them to the U.S.  

“Shriners is an incredibly wonderful organization,” he said. “Dr. David Westberry and prosthetist Ed Skewes – I admire them greatly.”

During six months in Greenville, Salee underwent revision surgery on her legs before her prosthetics were made, and eventually returned home followed by the three subsequent trips. 

In 2015, as conditions deteriorated in Iraq, Salee and her family moved to Turkey. There, she met Abed, also an Iraqi, at a Turkish language school. 

But as she became an adult, Miller said, the old prosthetics were simply too small, leaving her in constant pain, unable to use them, and no way to get new legs in either country.

“By that time, they were ill-fitting and didn’t provide the support and it caused severe pain, swelling and … infection,” he said. 

Doctors there wanted to do more surgery, he said. But she was terrified. So, he asked her to send her medical records, which he showed to Westberry, who saw no need for more surgery, just new prosthetics, he said. 

“On the strength of that,” Miller said, “we decided to bring (Salee and Abed) back and started to raise funds.” 

Previous supporters of No More Victims from Los Angeles to the Upstate once again stepped up, he said. 

Among them was volunteer Kathryn McDeed of Greenville, who was with a group of friends who greeted Salee and Abed when they arrived at Greenville Spartanburg Airport recently.

“I wanted to cry seeing her come down that elevator,” she recalls. “She’s so vivacious, smiling all the time.” 

During her time in Greenville, Salee became something of a local celebrity, says McDeed, who remembers that Greenville Mayor Knox White gave her the Key to the City and that she was invited to throw the opening pitch at a Greenville Drive baseball game.

“We practiced that in back of Ronald McDonald House over and over,” she recalls with a chuckle.

McDeed says she tried to send Salee new feet and liners after she returned to Iraq the last time, but though she sent them three times, they always came back undeliverable.

“Imagine the trauma these people have been through,” she said. “And to have been through so much at such a young age.”

Because she’s aged out of the Shriners system, which treats children, Miller contacted The Hanger Clinic in Greenville, a prosthetics and orthotics practice, which agreed to help.

And Salee has already seen prosthetist Jon Nottingham, said Emily Boyd, manager at the clinic, a national company named after J.E. Hanger, the first reported amputee in the Civil War who crafted his own prosthetic leg.

Over four or five visits, she said, casts of Salee’s stumps will be taken, sockets will be fabricated out of carbon fiber and other lightweight, durable materials, and she will be fitted with the new legs so they are comfortable.

But prosthetic legs are costly. And Salee’s are expected to run about $30,000, said Boyd, who reached out to the Steps of Faith Foundation in Kansas City, Missouri, a nonprofit group which helps amputees get prosthetics. They agreed to pay for the components while the clinic provides the talents of their staff for free, she said. 

“We wanted to try to get them fit and delivered as quickly as possible so she has adequate time to get used to them,” she said.

Miller said No More Victims is “deeply grateful to The Hanger Clinic – and to all the people who are helping, because without them, none of this happens.”

In the living room of an Airbnb not far from the clinic, Salee and Abed sit beside one another on a comfortable sofa and giggle as they talk about how they met.

Since her last visit, Salee has had good days and bad, she says through interpreter George Maalouf of Greenville, now an old friend who translated for her on her previous visits.

The good part is that she met Abed, she says. The bad part has been health issues with her legs and the discrimination she faced as a person with a disability in the Middle East. 

When her old prosthetics were causing her pain, a doctor wanted to amputate above the knee, she says. But that would have made her life even more difficult, she says, so she refused.

While she was given pain medication, she says it left her feeling drugged and sleepy. She also felt isolated.

Remembering it all leaves Salee downcast. But the clouds disappear when she thinks about meeting Abed. 

It’s the strangest story in the world about how we met, she says through Maalouf.

She was attending the Turkish language school twice a week, she says. Uncomfortable around others because of her disability, she kept to herself.

One day she was sitting on the front steps of the school next to the cafeteria, she says, and a boy, Abed, asked if he could speak with her for five minutes. Worried because men don’t approach women like that in Iraq, she said no. So, he said, What about two minutes?     

Nervous, she fled.

Salee also feared that anyone involved with her could face hardships too. She felt diminished because of the stigma so she had vowed never to marry, she recalls. 

Meanwhile, Abed had been wanting to move back to Iraq, he says through Maalouf. But his family persuaded him to stay for one more week and promised to pack him a suitcase if he still wanted to leave after that.

But that first day, he says, he saw Salee walk by on her prosthetics and canes and thought she was someone different. By the end of the week, he told his family he would stay a while.

Was it love at first sight? 

It was more like a spell, like magic, he says through Maalouf as Salee giggles and hides her face.

Abed wanted to get to know her. But at just 16, that day when she was sitting on the steps was the first time he’d approached a girl, he says.

Anxious over it all, Salee stopped coming to school. And Abed confesses that he felt guilty.  

So, through a series of events with friends, he texted her hoping to convince her to come back to class. She didn’t know who was texting, but suspected it was Abed. He said that if she returned to class, he’d walk by her desk and cough so she’d know who had texted.

Eventually, Abed, who thought maybe Salee’s injuries were suffered in a car accident, told her that her the legs didn’t matter to him. Still, she was afraid to get attached, he says. 

But after a few years, he approached her mother about marrying her, he says through Maalouf. Her mother refused.

Abed says he returned to Iraq in 2019, studied and became a graphic designer so he could support a family. Eventually, he called Salee on her birthday, then persuaded her parents to allow them to marry. 

In October of 2023 they finally wed. And they make their home in the far north of Iraq where security is less of an issue.

Being back in the U.S. feels really weird, Salee says through Maalouf. She’s optimistic that she’ll have better legs and more mobility, and is hoping for a more normal day-to-day life. Maybe she will even be able to ride a bicycle, she says.

Calling Miller a “superhero,” Salee says the efforts of No More Victims gave her a new life.

Miller has stayed in contact with her all these years, she says, and she regards him as a second dad with a big heart. She was thrilled and grateful when he told her he’d work to bring her back to the U.S. for new legs.

Since their arrival in late October, Salee has been introducing Abed to a variety of places in Greenville that she frequented in her earlier stays. But her visit to Ronald McDonald House was emotional, especially when she saw that the plaque with her childhood photo was still there. 

It’s very strange to feel more at home in a place that’s not your home, she says through Maalouf, adding that she feels more welcome and more at peace here.

Spencer says Salee’s resilience, courage, and spirit were a source of inspiration for everyone at Ronald McDonald House who grew close to her over the many months she stayed there. 

“Her future didn’t seem that bright as a little girl because she was a double amputee,” said Spencer. “It’s really wonderful to see her come full circle, and now be here again to be fitted as an adult. It’s quite a legacy for her that she made such an impression on so many people.”

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