Twelve months ago, Braveman Chizvino Mawanza — formerly known to the world as Baba Harare — announced a spiritual and artistic rebirth.
Declaring that he had "found salvation," he cast off the secular image, the sexually suggestive dances, and the "nonsense" lyrics that once brought him fame.
He rechristened himself King David, calling his old name “defiled,” and embraced gospel music as his new calling.
A year later, he's back with a new jiti album, seemingly renouncing the gospel path — not out of a loss of faith, but out of frustration. His reason? The Church doesn’t pay.
And just like that, we're confronted with a question that goes deeper than one artist’s career path: What happens when ministry and music collide with money?
Was it really about the message?
Mawanza’s initial departure from secular music seemed like a moral and spiritual reckoning. He admitted that the more “nonsense” he sang, the more popular he became. He recognised that in the world, “nonsense and sin sell gold.”
His pivot to gospel music, in that light, looked like a bold stand for values over vanity, for substance over streams.
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But now we see another side of the story.
Mwanza’s return to jiti isn’t based on a rejection of Christianity — it’s a rejection of Christian economics. In his words, he ministered far and wide, but was rarely compensated. “Christians don’t pay,” he lamented.
This return is not just artistic. It’s strategic. It’s commercial. It’s a business decision.
But is it also a moral retreat?
Who is gospel music for, really?
This controversy also exposes a deeper question about gospel music as a genre. Who is the audience? Is it meant to edify the believer? To evangelise the sinner? To praise God regardless of who’s listening?
Artists like the Charambas, Mathias Mhere, and Minister Michael Mahendere have managed to find both spiritual resonance and mainstream appeal. Their music is not only popular among devout Christians, but also among secular audiences. They’ve sold albums, filled venues, and topped charts — while staying rooted in Christian themes.
So, was Mawanza singing to the wrong market — or expecting the wrong rewards?
Gospel music is not a guaranteed economic haven. It thrives when it’s built on excellence, consistency, and genuine conviction. The gospel audience may not always reward performance the way secular fans do — but they do reward ministry that is real and compelling.
In the end, Mawanza may have found that the gospel industry, like the gospel itself, asks for sacrifice more than it gives status.
Can Christian values and jiti coexist?
Jiti, as a genre, is rooted in the secular celebration of life — its joys, rhythms, sensualities, and sometimes its excesses. It’s streetwise, it’s energetic, and yes — it can be provocative. Mawanza’s success in Jiti was no accident. He understood the pulse of the people.
Now, the question becomes: Can one uphold Christian values while dancing to the beat of Jiti? Can a song celebrate life without descending into vulgarity? Can rhythm be redeemed?
The answer, perhaps, lies in intention and content. Jiti doesn’t have to be obscene. Its power lies in its beat — not its debauchery. If Mawanza wants to merge gospel values with the drive of Jiti, he would not be the first. Artists have fused traditional sounds with redemptive messages before. But to do that sincerely, he must decide what matters more — the message or the market.
Faith, fame, and the fine print:
Mawanza’s journey shows us what happens when an artist is caught between conviction and commerce. It's a story as old as gospel music itself. Many artists have felt the pull between what feeds the soul and what fills the pocket.
But in returning to jiti, Mawanza raises a concern we cannot ignore: Is the church doing enough to support its artists?
If the Church expects quality, committed, anointed music, then it must also create a system where artists can survive — where ministry does not mean poverty, and calling doesn’t lead to burnout.
Until then, we will keep losing potential messengers to the world — not because they stopped believing, but because they simply couldn’t eat.
Final Thought:
Mawanza’s return to jiti music is not the collapse of faith. It is the collision of faith and reality. And until gospel music finds a sustainable way to reward its ministers — not just spiritually but economically — we will keep seeing this dance: from the pulpit, back to the party.
*Reason Wafawarova is a music critic based in Australia.
