Nobody puts a finer point on the difference between need and want like Mother Nature as she did this month in Haiti.

Haiti is an island nation of approximately 9 million people and has been struggling with extreme, grinding and relentless poverty for many decades since the debacle of Papa Doc Duvalier and then his son, Baby Doc, who essentially left the country in economic and structural ruin.

Perhaps the endemic poverty has become like the allegory of the snake who began to eat his tail. Survival is so tenuous that the people of fuel-starved Haiti have resorted to denuding the island of wood to make charcoal to sell or with which to cook.

From what was once an exotic island destination dating as far back as Napoleon’s sister, to one of those places the adventurous traveler would strive to check off, the people are left with a dusty, mudslide-prone, open-sewage, AIDS-infected country.

At one time Haiti had something to sell: a tourist destination economy. It also had a wage-labor advantage for handwork production, such as art and sewing, and was a primary source for making baseballs. I fear today that Haiti has exhausted every resource to the point of no return, despite consuming billions in foreign aid over three decades.

Now, providence has seen fit to visit upon the poorest nation in the western hemisphere a calamity of biblical proportions with which the country and, possibly, no amount of foreign aid can adequately deal with in the aftermath. This, in more graphic and real terms than the mythical tale of Midas, bares naked the essence of what humans need and what they want.

Basic human needs are the sustenance of food and water, adequate shelter and clothing and the raison d’etre of love or purpose. In our rich nation we take much of this for granted. I cannot imagine not being able to drink when I thirst or eat when I hunger or having people around me who care about me or having something purposeful to do with my life.

If you don’t agree, see how long you can go without taking a drink of liquid. When one is in this position, as are a vast number of people in Haiti, you don’t think about nice clothes and air-conditioning but, instead, become consumed with a dream of fresh, clean drinking water. You don’t think about a clean bed to sleep in or soft carpeting to walk upon, you think only of food. Remember this without being shocked at the violent looting we are beginning to see in Haiti.

I have never starved one day of my life. Oh, to be sure, I have been ready to eat but I have, indeed, never starved. Nor have I ever been cold or hot or thirsty to the point of death. Sure, like all of us there have been times when I have been uncomfortable and, probably like everyone, complained mightily about my situation.

It is simply impossible for me, and I suspect for anyone reading this, to imagine being in such a position without any hope of respite. I can think of no more fearful circumstance for any living human being. If it was my child, I would probably go mad.

My good friend and gentle Key West philosopher, John DePoo, once told me, “Less is more and more is less.” For a long time I wasn’t really sure what that meant, but having considered it for a number of years, I have come to believe that he is right. In fact, the older I get, the more I realize I can do without.

While it may be antithetical to being an entrepreneur and businessman, which I have been all my life, I have come to grips with having what I need in terms of bodily sustenance, medical care, friends and family and adequate shelter, which is a pretty good place to be in life. The more “things” I have, the more stuff I have to worry about maintaining or securing. The less stuff I have gives me more time to enjoy that which should be of greatest importance, the frequency to enjoy the human companionship of those about whom I care, and those things around us all that are free to enjoy. Pity the Haitians, for they apparently have nothing.

Chris Belland writes for Cook Communications at the Key West Citizen. Visit hindsightsandinsights. blogspot.com.