Those of us fortunate enough to be honored with the presidency of the ASA share a common dilemma: what to say at the occasion of the presidential address. Our dilemma is not the result of taking this occasion lightly; indeed, I have been making notes to myself for at least two years. Rather, it is the problem of what is appropriate to an organization such as the ASA.

The association represents a host of different disciplines and interests. Its focus is on Africa, but not the events so much as the study of patterns and meaning of events. Its setting is in North America, but its constituency is tremendously diverse: native-born and naturalized, people of North American, African and European origin, institutional members as well as individual ones. Its officers, like myself, make campaign statements when we know the realities of the association only dimly; with time we realize how much of the continuity and wisdom of the organization come from the staff.

I did not feel comfortable with a statement about the current situation in Africa, about which we all know something, nor with a statement about Africanist scholarship, the reason for which we come to the panels and keynotes of a meeting such as this. What I do feel a call to express is a reflection on the association in relation to its history and the changing situations in Africa and North America and in relation to African studies. And so finally I would like to talk about “The African Studies Association at age 35.”

The studies of African military establishments that appeared from the late 1960s, after the first wave of coups, were very much the products of their time. The theories of modernization and political development that were their starting point were the ideas of an epoch: that of decolonization, nation-building, internationalization of capital, consolidation of U.S. hegemony, and globalization of American social science. They are of interest now because aspects of that epoch are repeating themselves: in particular, the reassertion of U.S. and western hegemony, the return to free market orthodoxy, and a “third wave” of transitions to democracy (Huntington 1991).

Three overlapping debates dominated the literature on the military in developing countries during the 1960s and 1970s. They revolved initially around the conditions of democracy and civilian control. They shifted to the role of the military in modernization or development as armies moved into politics, then focused on political order following deep hegemonic crises in developing countries themselves and in their relations with the West.

Early studies of newly formed African armies and police establishments saw them as part of an institutional transfer of western paradigms of governance, along with the Westminster model and Gaullist presidentialism. Military professionalism was integral to the neocolonial enterprise of transferring power to elites, requiring accelerated training in metropolitan and local academies of African “Narcissuses in uniform” (First 1970, chap. 3).

The research that has been done in the various areas of development has tended to focus on the structure of the state and economic modes of production. This approach ignores the intrinsic variables such as culture and traditional Africa's modes of association which incorporated the cyclical nature of existence and experience. This work departs from the traditional mode of development analysis by articulating the concept of social death as the basis for the reinvention of the African woman, consequently enabling a rethinking of development analysis formulations from a more authentic African perspective. For the purposes of this work, “Africa” and “African(s)” refer to and include physical, abstract and intellectual spaces involving precolonial, colonial, and postcolonial experiences of Africans and/or their interaction on the continent and in the diaspora. A viewpoint based on the assumption of Africa as an all-inclusive heritage, it requires the maintenance of the match between the African experience and the acquired modes of discourse that have been used to explore and exclude that experience.

For example, the orthodox school of thought looks at development from an economic perspective whereby the macroeconomic variables are such that that which cannot be quantified, the non-visible, is not a subject of study. On the other hand the historical approach of the radical school of thought (the political economy school of thought) has not done enough to incorporate the role of the traditional African woman into its mode of analysis. Both schools of thought are derived from the western unilineal mode of analysis which forms the strong base for the development and maintenance of scientific thought and practice.

For many young Malian men, trade offers, or seems to offer, the possibility of escape from the poverty endemic to their society. Important traders are well dressed, well fed, have large families and entree to high circles of wealth and power (Amselle 1987a). Many believe that, through dint of hard work, savvy and a with little luck, anyone can become a successful trader.

While no one knows exactly how many attempt a career in commerce, Malian cities and towns teem with boys and men engaged in petty trade. Women are also involved in trade, though most deal only in small quantities of cooked food or garden produce. Men and boys sell pre-recorded cassettes, cigarettes, kola and other inexpensive merchandise. All believe that if they do the right things, and it is the will of God, they will succeed.

Success, for men, means progressively increasing the size of their business and eventually owning a large store, several trucks or another large enterprise. Women generally do not operate financially important businesses. However, they may have substantial behind-the-scenes investment in them.

For a Malian man, becoming a prosperous merchant can be seen as a process of joining a commercial community. The members of the commercial community control access to the wealth and the connections that can transform a poor shopkeeper into a wealthy merchant. Aspiring merchants must follow a course of action that allows them to identify increasingly with and be accepted by this community.

An important feature of African village economies in the 1980s and 1990s has been the initiatives of local people in responding to the severe contraction in national economies and the structural changes introduced as part of the World Bank/IMF-inspired structural adjustment programs (SAPs) (Elabor-Idemudia 1993; Gladwin 1991; Taylor and MacKenzie 1992). This paper discusses the ongoing strategies of the women of a Ghanaian village to fluctuations in the domestic economy over the past decade, including responses to structural adjustment measures of the past few years emanating from the national center. Testimonies of women about contemporary economic changes and the impact on their households are presented to highlight women's culturally constructed ways of reflecting on their daily lives.

The ways in which changing economic situations have affected female roles in rural production and women's position in society have significant implications for national development. Moock (1986), Amadiume (1987), Beneria (1981) and Stamp (1989), among others, have pointed to the explanatory power of gender as a primary organizing principle of rural production and society. The significance of gender is twofold: first, as a means of categorizing labor and household headship; and secondly, as “fundamental to understanding structures and actions, including production relationships within and across households, the setting of goals and priorities, the mobilization of resources, risk-taking and the rights to benefits derived from increased agricultural productivity (Moock 1986, 7; see also Berry, 1985). In African rural economies, men and women have different cycles of rights and responsibilities. Through food production, women control their own cycles of rights and responsibilities. They are primarily responsible for and are concerned with the means by which the household is provisioned (Guyer 1984, 1986, 101; Henn 1983, 1984, 1; Bryson 1981). Most men earn their primary income from cash (export) cropping and the sale of their labor.

There seems to be a myth surrounding the nature of South African women's participation in the struggle against apartheid. It is one which erroneously assumes that women, who must undertake almost complete responsibility for the welfare and survival of their families, are so limited by being passive, nurturing and motherly that they cannot at the same time be powerful, independent and politically active.

Breaking the Silence, A Century of South African Women's Verse (Lockett 1991) forwards the cause of self-definition for the women and mothers of South Africa. The insight it provides into the political commitment and social orientation of women helps dispel the myth of Mother Africa, which, as editor Cecily Lockett describes it,

seldom allows for any role other than those of wife and mother for the black woman, who continues to be a prisoner of gender, defined only in terms of black men. Similarly, the emphasis on courage, determination, and survival as positive qualities inherent in black women tends to glamorize their real suffering and oppression as, in many cases, sole breadwinner of single-parent families (1988, 35).

Perhaps that underestimation of the power of South African women can be dispelled in light of their literary contributions, which are now surfacing with increasing momentum. The role of South African women in society, as seen in Cecily Lockett's anthology, Breaking the Silence, A Century of South African Women's Verse, is all encompassing and inherently proactive.