Coca chewing in the Andes is very old, and woven bags for carrying leaves come out of dry coastal burials of considerable antiquity, well before the Inca. The Inca state took control of coca production and distribution and used the leaf as a good it could grant, which concentrated it without inventing it. The colonial administration then spent decades arguing about whether the leaf was an idolatrous drug to be suppressed or a commodity to be taxed, and settled substantially on taxation, which is why coca survived the conquest when so much else did not.
Through all of that the bag stayed the same kind of object. Catherine J. Allen's ethnography of Sonqo, in the southern Peruvian highlands, describes a community in which adults carry a chuspa as a matter of course, in which offering from it structures work parties, negotiations, courtship and grief, and in which someone without one is not fully participating. The bag is not brought out for ceremonies. It is simply present.
This is worth stating because Andean material is often presented as a set of survivals: fragments of a destroyed religion, retrieved and re-enacted. The chuspa is a useful corrective. It is continuous, ordinary, unremarkable to its users, and it carries more ritual traffic in a week than most of the objects that get photographed.