For Mathew Olu-Babs Babalola, the decision to make Mi Yi Dima came from years of observing how visibility and resources are distributed within Nigerian cinema. While films from the Southwest—particularly Yoruba-language and English-language productions—continue to dominate mainstream platforms, stories from Northern Nigeria often remain overlooked.
“The mainstream media, especially the film space, is a little one-sided when it comes to quality storytelling,” Babalola says.
Rather than relocating to Lagos, he chose to remain in the North, believing that proximity to lived experience allows for deeper and more responsible storytelling. Mi Yi Dima, he explains, was conceived as both a creative work and a statement of intent.
The film draws from the everyday rhythms of Northern life—language, belief systems, and social interactions—without exoticising them. Babalola describes Northern Nigeria as one of the country’s most culturally rich regions, shaped by centuries of history, scholarship, and communal traditions, yet rarely represented with care on screen.
“The northern space is one of the regions with the richest historical perspectives, yet many of these stories have not been told,” he says.
At the centre of Mi Yi Dima is the experience of the girl-child. In many Northern communities, young girls are socialised toward early marriage and domestic responsibility, with limited encouragement to pursue education or personal ambition. The film’s protagonist embodies this tension, outwardly conforming by hawking fura da nono while quietly cultivating an intellectual life through reading and imagination.
“Most of the preparations the girl child goes through are to be able to take care of her home at the end of the day,” Babalola notes.
The film presents this inner life as a form of quiet resistance, suggesting that defiance does not always announce itself loudly, but can exist in learning, curiosity, and private aspiration.
Marriage in Mi Yi Dima functions as both a cultural institution and a space of negotiation. The story engages with Fulani and Hausa customs, including Sharo, a rite in which a man must endure public flogging to demonstrate strength and readiness for marriage.
“If a man must endure pain to marry, does that also give him the right to send the woman packing at will?” Babalola asks.
Rather than passing judgment, the film places these traditions alongside the reality of frequent divorce, allowing the contradictions to sit with the audience.
Although rooted in cultural critique, Mi Yi Dima is also a love story that resists familiar romantic patterns. The relationship between the female protagonist and Yoma, a visitor from outside the North, becomes a way to examine ethnicity, religion, and belonging beyond social convenience.
“Love in this film is dicey, it is not defined by wealth, family ties, or convenience,” Babalola says.
The film suggests that love and choice can exist without erasing culture, challenging practices such as auren dangi, where marriages are often shaped by family ties rather than personal connection.
Stylistically, Mi Yi Dima reflects a broader shift in Hausa cinema toward more dynamic storytelling. Babalola incorporates movement, ritualised action, and communal performance, particularly in wedding sequences, to maintain pace without sacrificing cultural grounding.
Sound plays a key role in this approach. Instead of relying on stock music or post-produced effects, the film’s soundscape was recorded live on set using traditional instruments and indigenous rhythms.
“We didn’t buy sound; everything was recorded live to preserve authenticity,” he explains.
From casting to choreography, the production leaned heavily on local collaboration and knowledge, highlighting the depth of creative talent within the Hausa film industry.
Mi Yi Dima premiered at the Africa International Film Festival (AFRIFF) before its release on Accelerate TV. According to Babalola, audience response revealed a strong appetite for culturally grounded storytelling. Northern viewers recognised familiar rituals and social dynamics, while audiences from other regions encountered these traditions with curiosity.
“For people within the culture, it felt like seeing their lives on screen; for outsiders, it was an education,” he says.
Beyond its narrative, the film also gestures toward the future of Hausa cinema. Babalola believes persistent misconceptions about insecurity and conservatism have limited investment in Northern storytelling, despite the region’s wealth of untapped stories.
“There are too many stories in the North, and the film space is highly investible,” he says.
Ultimately, Mi Yi Dima is a film about agency,the courage to choose education, love, and self-definition within restrictive systems.
“When you love something, you go all out for it,” Babalola concludes.
By telling this story in Hausa, from the North, and on its own terms, Mi Yi Dima expands both the scope of Hausa cinema and the broader imagination of Nigerian film.