Online Reporter
Tafadzwa Zimoyo
Zimpapers Entertainment Editor
FOR months, a mysterious voice has been drifting through revival tents, worship nights and gospel playlists – a deep, urgent call floating over soft pianos and swelling harmonies.
At first, people didn’t know who it belonged to.
They only knew the feeling – the kind of song that makes hands lift without permission and tears slide without warning.
That voice now has a name the crowds shout before a single chord strikes.
Larry Gunda has arrived.
The gospel world calls him Worshipper Larry a calm presence with a storm hidden in his tone.
His offering, “Kana Mwari Akurangarira,” didn’t break through with a marketing campaign, it simply appeared in people’s lives like a prayer someone forgot to whisper.
It became the soundtrack of late-night testimonies, a song believers send to each other when words fail.
But Larry’s journey didn’t start from a viral moment.
It began long before anyone imagined stadium crowds singing his lyrics.
Long before the bright lights at HICC and the shock of thousands chanting his name, Larry was a young boy in AFM How Mine, standing too close to the microphone because his voice was smaller than his dreams.
In 1998, he became the youth choir leader, the beginning of a habit that would shape his destiny: writing songs not for fame, but because something inside him insisted on expression.
Many Zimbabweans danced to his melodies long before they met the man.
Under the banner Salt and Light, later Gospel Power, Larry helped create classics that aged like worship anthems — Kanazvamubata, Tafura, Who Is This Man?
His music travelled farther than his name ever did, slipping into homes, churches and memories without introducing itself.
Years later, the quiet writer has stepped into his own spotlight unmasked, unapologetic, and suddenly unforgettable.
His biggest turning point came at The Grateful Experience at the Harare International Convention Centre.
Sharing the stage with Dr Rebecca Malope and Sipho Makhabane, two voices that sculpted the sound of African gospel, felt like a full-circle moment drawn in bold ink.
“I grew up learning from them,” he said backstage, still shaken by the roar of the crowd.
“To stand next to them . . .that’s God’s time.”
But the HICC wasn’t his first taste of large-scale worship.
His wake-up moment arrived earlier at UFIC’s Relentless Worship Encounter, where more than 15 000 believers raised a chorus so loud it felt like the roof might lift.
Something changed inside him that night — the calling stopped whispering and started shouting.
This year, the world began to open.
Larry crossed borders on a UK tour that turned strangers into family, from Dunstable Conference Centre to Dominion Church London and UFIC London.
He watched shy smiles melt into testimonies, saw people walk into worship like they were walking into sanctuary.
For a man who refuses to force his rise, choosing to move “only in God’s appointed time,” the timing feels deliberate — even divine.
Behind the voice is a mentor who shaped the minister — Prophet Emmanuel Makandiwa, the role model Larry says helped refine his originality.
From him, Larry learned how to weave scripture into song without losing depth or power, how to make worship feel like revelation rather than performance.
“People need hope,” he often tells his team.
“The song is the message, but the message is the healing.”
And the testimonies are already flowing from hospital corridors, broken homes, and quiet phones lit by late-night confessions from people who say the song held them through the storm.
Still, Larry insists this is only the beginning.
He plans to stretch his wings with more music, visuals and collaborations across Zimbabwe, Mozambique and beyond.
His mission is clear and simple: take the gospel to “people of all race and colour.”
While many artists chase charts, Larry chases something more fragile souls in need of lifting. It’s what makes his rise feel different.
His music doesn’t sound like ambition; it sounds like assignment.
Yes, he is a singer.
Yes, he is a pastor.
But behind his calm smile is a voice with thunder in its lungs and that thunder is starting to reshape Zimbabwe’s gospel landscape.
Worshipper Larry Gunda didn’t step into the spotlight. He walked into it carrying an altar.
