My taxi driver told me that morning with a triumphant grin, as he drove me to the ministry of information, "The weather has come from God." But the missiles that hit Al Shaab an hour later probably came from Uncle Sam. And they were merciless. When I arrived the tree stumps were still ablaze. Car tyres, melted off their hubs like spent candles, were still smouldering on the road. And 17 of the people America says it has come to liberate were lying in pieces on the floor. Ambulances were screaming back and forth through the inky-red hue, carrying those that had survived through an apocalyptic scene. Fire-fighters sprayed what was left of the charred buildings, people threw their possessions on to the streets before they could be engulfed in flames and the crowds were growing.