“小額貸款”領域正在醞釀著信貸危機。

　　小額貸款是指世界各國發(fā)放貸款金額最小的一類業(yè)務。它主要是幫助貧民窟里和其它地方難以獲得正常貸款的窮人為小吃攤、果樹、奶牛等小工商業(yè)獲得資金，以擺脫貧困。但是，作為幫助世界上最貧窮人口的一項社會實驗而啟動的這個項目也顯示出具有獲利的能力。

　　這吸引了私募股權基金和其他國外投資者，他們在過去幾年里已向世界各地的小額貸款投入了數(shù)十億美元。

　　據(jù)印度班加羅爾管理協(xié)會（Indian Institute of Management Bangalore）研究小額貸款問題的研究員卡瑪斯（Rajalaxmi Kamath）說，其結果是：如今在印度，一些貧困地區(qū)正在受到貸款的“地毯式轟炸”。據(jù)新德里行業(yè)協(xié)會Sa-Dhan稱，在印度，截至2008年3月31日當年的未償小額貸款總額增長72%，達到12.4億美元。

　　Finethic的格雷威爾（Jacques Grivel）說，我們擔心出現(xiàn)泡沫，太多的錢都在追逐為數(shù)不多的好項目。Finethic是一只1億美元的投資基金，重點關注拉丁美洲、東歐和亞洲，總部位于盧森堡，不過它在印度沒有投資。

　　在印度南部的絲綢之鄉(xiāng)拉馬那家拉姆，Zahreen Taj注意到了這種變化。在她生活的這個破敗的小鎮(zhèn)，一夜之間許多人都想給她提供貸款。她借了125美元，投入到丈夫的蔬菜車上。后來她又借了更多錢。

　　46歲的Taj說，我從一家銀行借款還上一家的錢。然后我再借錢。4年來，她總共從兩家小額貸款機構借了4次錢，數(shù)額不斷增大，兩次是209美元，一次是293美元，還有一次是356美元。

　　她說，在她借貸的高峰期，她買了一臺電視機。Taj說，小額貸款的出現(xiàn)增加了我們對還未擁有的東西的渴望。我們都有夢想。

　　現(xiàn)在，除了地板墊和一堆廚房用具之外，她的住房幾乎是家徒四壁。在賣掉了電視、其它電器和珠寶后，她將債務降到了94美元。這大概是她年收入的四分之一。

　　在Taj生活的拉馬那家拉姆，過高的貸款負擔激發(fā)了社會緊張局勢。許多借款人抱怨說，這些貸款的實際年利率高達24%至39%，結果是讓很多人不堪重負。

　　今年7月，該鎮(zhèn)有關部門要求印度央行限制貸款利率的上限，否則將吊銷貸款人的執(zhí)照。拉馬那家拉姆副專員K.G. Jagdeesh在致印度央行的信中說，否則，目前的局勢可能會在當?shù)匾l(fā)法律和秩序問題。

　　印度央行發(fā)言人Alpana Killawala在電子郵件中說，央行沒有要求小額貸款機構設定最高利率，但會給它們施加壓力，要求不要收取“過高的”利率。

　　與此同時，當?shù)厍逭嫠碌念I導人已開始告訴以穆斯林為主的社區(qū)不要償還貸款。借款人都遵守了這個要求。

　　清真寺領導人也要求貸款人提供財務報表。貸款人說，它們不會遵守這點。

　　觀察人士說，還貸風潮已蔓延到其它社區(qū)，包括附近Channapatna市，并可能在印度進一步擴散。

　　幫助小額貸款借款人從大銀行貸款的公司FWWB India的Vijayalakshmi Das說，我們對此深感憂慮。她說，當?shù)卦S多小額貸款提供商都沒有重視風險管理，小額信貸需要從中吸取教訓。

　　根據(jù)行業(yè)協(xié)會Sa-Dhan的一項調(diào)查，就全國來看，印度平均家庭的小額貸款負債在2004年至2009年期間增加了4倍左右，從約27美元增加到了約135美元。這個數(shù)字從全球標準來說顯然微不足道。不過在印度農(nóng)村地區(qū)，最貧窮家庭每周的生活費往往只有幾美元。

　　一些觀察人士指責小額貸款業(yè)務的根本性轉變是導致這個問題的元兇。過去小額貸款機構都是側重于社區(qū)服務的非營利機構。但最近幾年來，許多規(guī)模較大的小額貸款公司都在印度央行注冊為為營利性金融公司。這使它們面臨著更嚴格的監(jiān)管審查，但也獲得了更廣泛的融資渠道。

　　這種變化向更多的私募股權資金敞開了大門。總部位于欽奈的私募股權研究服務機構Venture Intelligence稱，在過去18個月里印度銀行和金融業(yè)達成的54項私募股權交易（總額11.9億美元）中，小額貸款業(yè)占16項，交易總額至少為2.45億美元。

　　在印度最貧窮的地區(qū)發(fā)放貸款似乎具有無法克服的風險。但投資者認為，農(nóng)村地區(qū)基本沒有受到全球經(jīng)濟衰退的沖擊。

　　國際私募股權基金在2007年3月開始關注印度的小額信貸。當時來自硅谷的風險投資公司紅杉資本（Sequoia Capital）參與了印度海得拉巴市SKS Microfinance Ltd.價值1，150萬美元的股票發(fā)行。SKS Microfinance是世界上規(guī)模最大的小額貸款公司之一。

　　Venture Intelligence的Arun Natarajan說，SKS向這個行業(yè)展示了如何利用私募股權資金發(fā)展壯大。

　　此后涌現(xiàn)出了大量交易，投資者中包括波士頓的Sandstone Capital、舊金山的Valiant Capital和Silicon Valley Bank的下屬公司SVB India Capital Partners.

　　世界銀行發(fā)起設立的研究機構扶貧協(xié)商小組（Consultative Group to Assist the Poor）稱，截止去年12月，全球共有100多只小額貸款投資基金，管理的資產(chǎn)總額約為65億美元。

　　在過去一年中，投資者已向公司管理的規(guī)模最大的小額貸款基金投入了10多億美元資金，增幅高達30%.扶貧協(xié)商小組稱，新增融資將使該行業(yè)今年發(fā)放的貸款額比去年增加20%以上，其中大部分都流向了烏克蘭、柬埔寨和波斯尼亞等國。

　　在拉馬那家拉姆，Lalitha Sharma回憶起了7年前首家小額貸款公司到來時的情形。這是她那些住在貧民窟的同胞一個振奮人心的時刻：自由流動的貨幣。貸款員向每月收入只有9美元的人發(fā)放了貸款。

　　他們也來到了Sharma的家中。

　　她借了126美元。按照貸款條款，她說她會將這筆錢投在小生意上──她跟丈夫一起經(jīng)營的小吃攤檔。許多小額貸款提供商都要求貸款用于投資生意。

　　但今年29歲、有三個孩子的Sharma承認她撒了謊。她說，你必須說自己做生意才能獲得貸款，不然就拿不到錢。

　　她用這筆錢付拖欠的帳單和給一家人買吃的。Sharma在一家工廠工作，給浸泡在沸水中的蠶繭抽絲，每周平均能掙8美元。

　　根據(jù)《華爾街日報》查到的貸款記錄，她在接下來的四年里又從三家不同的貸款機構貸了四筆款，數(shù)額越來越大，分別為209、272、335和390美元。

　　班加羅爾的BSS Microfinance Private Ltd.也是貸款給Sharma的機構之一。該公司發(fā)言人拒絕置評她的借貸歷史記錄，稱央行有隱私方面的規(guī)定。

　　今年她又貸了314美元，用于給小叔子辦婚禮，貸款時她還是說錢是用來做生意的。

　　她還從另外兩家小額貸款機構獲得了貸款，數(shù)目分別為115美元和167美元，此外從位于班加羅爾的貸款機構Ujjivan借了251美元，又從Asmitha Microfin Ltd.借了230美元。

　　Ujjivan證實發(fā)放了三筆貸款。Asmitha的一名管理人員說，他那里有一筆貸款記錄，借款人是拉馬那家拉姆的居民，名叫Lalitha，但地址不一樣。

　　Sharma說，我明白這是貸款，你得付利息，而且債務會越滾越多。但有時我們所面對的問題似乎只能通過再貸一筆款來解決。解決了一個，又會出現(xiàn)新的問題。

　　對于從美國信貸危機中得到教訓的人來說，印度小額貸款中存在的許多問題都似曾相識。美國信貸危機因為所謂的“無需任何審查”貸款和收取傭金的貸款經(jīng)紀人而加劇，批評人士認為，這種貸款經(jīng)紀人缺乏審查借款者償還能力的動力。

　　Kamath說，在印度也是如此，小額貸款機構的現(xiàn)場工作人員通常是拿傭金的，因此他們就有了財務上的動力，希望發(fā)放的貸款越多越好。

　　Ujjivan的創(chuàng)始人Samit Ghosh說，貸款機構也知道申請人常常在文件上造假。他說，事實上Ujjivan的現(xiàn)場工作人員常常都知道實情。但Ujjivan一直秉乘的政策是“信賴客戶提供的信息，而不是我們自己的市場情報部門”。

　　他說，由于拉馬那家拉姆的出現(xiàn)的問題，這項政策現(xiàn)在會加以改變。他表示，Ujjivan將會從中汲取教訓，避免這種情況再度出現(xiàn)。

　　借款人將借來的錢花在哪里很難監(jiān)控。Ujjivan曾經(jīng)定期進行“貸款用途檢查”，但因成本過高而停止。Ghosh說，現(xiàn)在只對貸款310美元以上者進行檢查。

　　拉馬那家拉姆的那段瘋狂貸款的日子令一些居民苦惱不已。28歲的菜販Alamelamma說，她本來從小額貸款中受益，但不知節(jié)制的借款人把我們其他人借款的機會也給毀了。

　　與她一溝之隔的Sharma卻有不同看法：她希望小額貸款機構徹底從這一地區(qū)消失，不光是現(xiàn)在，而是永遠滾蛋。

　　A credit crisis is brewing in 'microfinance，' the business of making the tiniest loans in the world.

　　Microlending fights poverty by helping poor people finance small businesses —— snack stalls， fruit trees， milk-producing buffaloes —— in slums and other places where it's tough to get a normal loan. But what began as a social experiment to aid the world's poorest has also shown it can turn a profit.

　　That has attracted private-equity funds and other foreign investors， who've poured billions of dollars over the past few years into microfinance world-wide.

　　The result： Today in India， some poor neighborhoods are being 'carpet-bombed' with loans， says Rajalaxmi Kamath， a researcher at the Indian Institute of Management Bangalore who studies the issue. In India， microloans outstanding grew 72% in the year ended March 31， 2008， totaling $1.24 billion， according to Sa-Dhan， an industry association in New Delhi.

　　'We fear a bubble，' says Jacques Grivel of the Luxembourg-based Finethic， a $100 million investment fund that focuses on Latin America， Eastern Europe and Asia， though it has no exposure to India. 'Too much money is chasing too few good candidates.'

　　Here in Ramanagaram， a silk-making city in southern India， Zahreen Taj noticed the change. Suddenly， in the shantytown where she lives， lots of people wanted to loan her money. She borrowed $125 to invest in her husband's vegetable cart. Then she borrowed more.

　　'I took from one bank to pay the previous one. And I did it again，' says Ms. Taj， 46 years old. In four years， she took a total of four loans from two microlenders in progressively larger amounts —— two for $209， another for $293， and then $356.

　　At the height of her borrowing binge， she says， she bought a television set. The arrival of microfinance 'increased our desires for things we didn't have，' Ms. Taj says. 'We all have dreams.'

　　Today her house is bare except for a floor mat and a pile of kitchen utensils. By selling her TV， appliances and jewelry， she cut her debt to $94. That's equal to roughly a quarter of her annual income.

　　Around Ramanagaram， the silk-making city where Ms. Taj lives， the debt overload is stirring up social tension. Many borrowers complain that the loans' effective interest rates —— which can vary from 24% to 39% annually —— fuel a cycle of indebtedness.

　　In July， town authorities asked India's central bank to either cap those rates or revoke lenders' licenses. 'Otherwise， the present situation may lead to a law-and-order problem in the district，' wrote K.G. Jagdeesh， deputy commissioner for the city of Ramanagaram， in a letter to the central bank.

　　Alpana Killawala， a spokeswoman for the Reserve Bank of India， said in an email that the central bank doesn't as a practice cap interest rates for microlenders but does press them not to charge 'excessive' rates.

　　Meanwhile， local mosque leaders have started telling people in the predominantly Muslim community to stop paying their loans. Borrowers have complied en masse.

　　The mosque leaders are also demanding that lenders give them an accounting of their finances. The lenders say they're not about to comply with that.

　　The repayment revolt has spread to other communities， including the nearby city of Channapatna， and could reach further across India， observers say.

　　'We are very worried about this，' says Vijayalakshmi Das of FWWB India， a company that connects microlenders with financing from mainstream banks. 'Risk management is not a strong point for the majority' of local microfinance providers， she adds. 'Microfinance needs to learn a lesson.'

　　Nationwide， average Indian household debt from microfinance lenders almost quintupled between 2004 and 2009， to about $135 from $27 or so， according to a survey by Sa-Dhan， the industry association. These sums are obviously tiny by global standards. But in rural India， the poorest often subsist on just a few dollars a week.

　　Some observers blame a fundamental shift in the microfinance business for feeding the problem. Traditionally， microlenders were nonprofits focused on community service. In recent years， however， many of the larger microlending firms have registered with the Indian central bank as a type of for-profit finance company. That places them under greater regulatory scrutiny， but also gives them wider access to funding.

　　This change opened the door to more private-equity money. Of the 54 private-equity deals （totaling $1.19 billion） in India's banking and finance sector in the past 18 months， microfinance accounted for 16 deals worth at least $245 million， according to Venture Intelligence， a Chennai-based private-equity research service.

　　Making loans in poorest India sounds inherently risky. But investors argue that the rural developing world has remained largely insulated from the global economic slump.

　　International private-equity funds started taking notice of Indian microfinance in March 2007. That's when Sequoia Capital， a venture-capital firm in Silicon Valley， participated in a $11.5 million share offering by SKS Microfinance Ltd. of Hyderabad， India， one of the world's largest microlenders.

　　'SKS showed the industry how to tap private equity to scale up，' said Arun Natarajan of Venture Intelligence.

　　Numerous deals followed with investors including Boston-based Sandstone Capital， San Francisco-based Valiant Capital， and SVB India Capital Partners， an affiliate of Silicon Valley Bank.

　　As of last December， there were over 100 microfinance-investment funds globally with total estimated assets under management of $6.5 billion， according to the Consultative Group to Assist the Poor， or CGAP， a research institute hosted at the World Bank.

　　Over the past year， investors have poured more than $1 billion into the largest microfinance funds managed by companies， a 30% increase. The extra financing will allow the industry to loan out 20% more this year than last， much of it to countries such as the Ukraine， Cambodia and Bosnia， CGAP says.

　　Here in Ramanagaram， Lalitha Sharma recalls when the first microfinance firm arrived seven years ago. Those were heady times for her fellow slum-dwellers： Money flowed freely. Field agents offered loans to people earning as little as $9 a month.

　　They came to Ms. Sharma's door， too.

　　She borrowed $126. Under the loan's terms， she said she would use it to finance a small business —— a snack stand she runs with her husband. Many microfinance providers require loans to be used to fund a business.

　　But Ms. Sharma， a 29-year-old mother of three， acknowledges she lied. 'You have to mention a business to get a loan，' she says. 'There was no other way to get the money.'

　　She used it to pay overdue bills and to buy food for her family. Ms. Sharma earns $8 a week， on average， in a factory where she extracts silk thread from cocoons immersed in boiling water.

　　Over the next four years， she took nine more loans from three different lenders， in progressively larger sums of $209， $272， $335， and $390， according to lending records reviewed by The Wall Street Journal.

　　A spokesman for BSS Microfinance Private Ltd. of Bangalore， another of her lenders， declined to comment on her borrowing history， citing central-bank privacy rules.

　　This year， she took another $314 loan to pay for her brother-in-law's wedding， again saying the money would be used for business purposes.

　　She also juggled loans from two other microlenders —— $115， $167， and $251 from the Bangalore-based lender Ujjivan， and another $230 from Asmitha Microfin Ltd.

　　Ujjivan confirmed it issued three loans. An Asmitha official said he had a record of a loan to a Ramanagaram resident named Lalitha， but at a different address.

　　'I understand that it is credit， that you have to pay interest， and your debt grows，' Ms. Sharma says. 'But sometimes the problems we have seem like they can only be solved by taking another loan. One problem solved， another created.'

　　Many of the problems in Indian microlending might sound familiar to students of the U.S. mortgage crisis， which was worsened by so-called 'no-documentation' loans and by commission-paid brokers who critics say lacked an incentive to check borrowers' ability to repay.

　　Similarly in India， microlenders' field officers are often paid on commission， giving them financial incentive to issue more loans， according to Ms. Kamath.

　　Lenders are aware that applicants often lie on their paperwork， says Ujjivan's founder， Samit Ghosh. In fact， he says， Ujjivan's field staffers often know the real story. But his organization maintained a policy of 'relying on the information from the customer， rather than our own market intelligence.'

　　He says that policy will now change because of the trouble in Ramanagaram. The lender will 'learn from the situation， so it won't happen again，' he says.

　　It's tough to monitor how borrowers spend their money. Ujjivan used to perform regular 'loan utilization checks，' but stopped because it was so costly. Now it only checks in with people borrowing more than $310， Mr. Ghosh says.

　　Ramanagaram's period of wild borrowing irks some residents. Alamelamma， a 28-year-old vegetable seller， says she has benefited from microfinancing and that the profligate borrowers 'have ruined it for the rest of us.'

　　One gully away， Ms. Sharma， the heavy debtor， has a different view： She would like to see the microlenders kicked out of the community entirely. 'Not just for now， but forever，' she says.